hi—  nwMiMiiiiniaiiiHiiimiiiniiiiBWMwraa 


Ventures  and  Adven 

of 

EZRA  MEEK 


Seattle,  Wash,,  1909 


at  lo: 


)F  CALIFORNI 
ANGELES 


San  . 


Ventures  and  Adventures 


OF 


EZRA  MEEKER 

OR 

Sixty  Years  of  Frontier  Life 

Fifty-Six  Years  of  Pioneer  Life  in  the  Old  Oregon 

Country;  an  Account  of  the  Author's  Trip  Across 

the  Plains  with  an  Ox  Team  in  1852,  and  his 

Return  Trip  in  1906 ;  His  Cruise  on  Puget 

Sound  in  1853,  and  His  Trip  Through  the 

Natchess   Pass   in    1854;    Over   the 

Chilcoot  Pass  and  Flat-Boating 

on  the  Yukon  in  1898. 

THE  OREGON  TRAIL 

By 

EZRA  MEEKER 

Author  of  Pioneer '  'Reminiscences  of  Puget  Sound. 

"The  Tragedy  of  Leschi,"— "Hop  Culture  in  the 

United  States. "—"Washington  Territory 

West  of  the  Cascade  Mountains."  - 

"Familiar  Talks."— "A  Three 

Years'  Serial."— "The  Ox 

Team." 


Rainier  Printing  Co.,  Printers  and  Publishers,  Seattle,  Wash. 


Copyright,  1908 

By 
EZRA  MEEKER 


Published  January.  1909 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  I. 
Autobiography. 
Birth     and     Parentage — Boyhood     Days — Aversion     to     School — 
Early    Ambitions — Farm    Training — Life    in    a    Printing    Of- 
fice— At  Tippecanoe  as  a  Songster 19 

CHAPTER    II. 

Early  Days  in  Indiana. 

I'm  Going'  to  Be  a  Farmer — Off  for  Iowa — An  Iowa  Winter 35 

CHAPTER    III. 

Off   for   Oregon. 

Preparation — Getting    a    Partner — First    Day    Out 41 

CHAPTER    IV. 
The    Ferry    at    Omaha 46 

CHAPTER    V. 
Out    on    the   Plains. 
■j3  Indian      Country — The      Cholera — Extent      of      Emigration — -The 

Casualties    49 

=n 

CHAPTER   VI. 
Out    on    the    Plains, 
cc    The    Law    of    Self-Preservation — Crossing     the     Snake    River — 
Wagon  Beds  as  Boats — Down  Snake  River  in  Wagon  Boxes — 
—  On    to    Portland 60 

f  CHAPTER   VII. 

3    Floating   Down   the   River 75 

3 

CHAPTER   VIII. 

The  Arrival. 

At  Work — Moving  to  St.   Helens — Building-  a  Home 83 

CHAPTER   IX. 

The    First    Cabin. 

Home   Life — A   Trip    to   Puget    Sound 91 

CHAPTER    X. 

Cruise    on    Puget    Sound. 

Building  a  Boat — Afloat  on  Puget  Sound — A  Visit  to  the  Indians     99 

CHAPTER   XI. 

Cruise    on    Puget    Sound. 

At    Steilacoom    110 


«  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER   XII. 

cruise  on    Puget    Sound. 

At    Tacoma-    On    Puyallup    Bay 119 

CHAPTER   XIII. 

cruise   on   Puget    Sound. 
At    Aiki    Poinl     A    Fish    Story l ^7 

CHAPTER    XIV. 

cruise  (in    Puget   Sound. 

Port    Townsend — Building  the  City     Colonel    Ebey 134 

CHAPTER    XV. 

From   Columbia   River   to   Puget   Sound. 

Arrival    Home — Preparations    to    Move    -The    Trip 140 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

The    Second    Cabin. 

The   New    Home — Brother   Oliver    Returns    to    the   States 148 

CHAPTER    XVll. 

Trip    Through    Natchess    Pass. 

Cross    the    Streams 156 

CHAPTER    XVIII. 
Trip    Through    Natchess    Pass — Cont. 
Many    Obstacles — Killing    of    Steers    to    Make    Rope — A    Brave 

Boy    1  fi  4 

CHAPTER    XIX. 

Trip    Through    Natchess    Pass — Cont. 

Fun    with    the    Pony — Immigrants 174 

CHAPTER  XX. 

Trip   Through   Natchess   Pass — Cont. 

Desert    Lands — Lost — Crossing    the    River — Reunion 182 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

Trip   Through    Natchess   Pass — Cont. 

Nearly    Home — Trouble    Over    Titles — Parting 189 

CHAPTER    XXII. 

Trip    Through    Natchess    Pass — Cont. 

Home   Again — Visitors — Jay   Cooke  and    My   Pamphlet 197 

CHAPTER    XXIII. 

First    Immigrants   Through    Natchess   Pass. 

Hard    Trip— Letter    from    Geo.    H.    Himes 206 

CHAPTER    XXIV. 

Building    of    the    Natchess    Pass    Road. 
Many     Obstacles — Lines     from     Winthrop — Receipts 216 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER    XXV. 

Building    of    the    Natchess    Pass    Road — Cont. 

Letter    from    A.    J.    Burge  -  Lawlessness 229 

CHAPTER    XXVI. 

About    Indians. 

Massacre — Flight    of    Settlers 237 

CHAPTER   XXVII. 
Fraser    River    Stampede. 
Excitement     High — Off     for     Whatcom — The     Arrival — Where's 

De    Lacy?    237# 

CHAPTER   XXVIII. 

An    Old    Settlers'    Meeting. 

Review   of   the   Past — Lady   Sheriff — Personal    Anecdotes 249 

CHAPTER    XXIX. 

A  Chapter  on  Names. 

Seattle — Puyallup    and     Amusing    Incidents ' 257 

CHAPTER  XXX. 

Pioneer     Religious     Experiences     and     Incidents. 

Aunt    Ann — Mr.   and   Mrs.   Wickser — John   McLeod 263 

CHAPTER    XXXI. 

Wild    Animals. 
Carrie    Sees    a    Cougar — An    Unfriendly    Meeting 269 

CHAPTER    XXXII. 

The    Morning    School. 
The    First     Log    School    House — Going    to    Market — Fifty    Years 

Ago     27fi 

CHAPTER    XXXIII. 

The   Hop    Business. 
My    Hop    Venture — The    Curse    on    Hops 283 

CHAPTER    XXXIV. 
The    Beet    Sugar    Venture 291 

CHAPTER    XXXV. 

Banking. 

Bank    President — The    Run    on    the    Bank 294 

CHAPTER    XXXVI. 

The    Klondike    Venture. 

Through    White    Horse    Rapids — On    the    Yukon 297 

THE    OREGON    TRAIL    MONUMENT    EXPEDITION. 

CHAPTER   XXXVII. 

The     Ox. 

Ready    for    the    Trip — Getting    Notoriety 301 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER    XXXVIII. 
The    Start. 
Making-  Tamps — Out    on    the    Trail — Centralia,    Wash. — Chehalis, 

Wash. — Jackson's — Toledo,     Wash. —  Portland,     Oregon 305 

CHAPTER  XXXIX. 
The  Dalles,  Oregon. 
Quotations  from  Journal — Shoeing  the  Oxen — Out  from  The 
Dalles — Pendleton,  Oregon — The  Blue  Mountains — Meacham, 
Oregon — La  Grande,  Oregon — Ladd's  Canyon — Camp  No. 
34  Baker'City,  Oregon — Old  Mt.  Pleasant,  Oregon — Durkee, 
Oregon — Huntington — Vale,     Oregon 312 

CHAPTER   XL. 
Old      Fort      Boise — Parma,      Idaho — Boise,      Idaho — Twin      Falls, 

Idaho American      Falls,      Idaho — Pocatello,      Idaho — Soda 

Springs,    Idaho — Montpelier,      Idaho — The     Mad      Bull — The 
Wounded     Buffalo — Cokeville,     Wyoming 321 

CHAPTER    XLI. 
The    Rocky    Mountains. 
Pacific    Springs— Sweetwater — Split    Rock — The    Devil's    Gate...    325 

CHAPTER  XLII. 
Independence   Rock. 
Fish     Creek — North     Platte — Casper,      Wyoming — Glen      Rock — 
Douglas,        Wyoming — Puyallup,        Tacoma,        Seattle — New 
Changes    334 

CHAPTER    XLIII. 

Fort    Laramie,     Wyoming. 
Scott's    Bluff — The    Lead    of    the    Plains — Chimney    Rock — North 

Platte    344 

CHAPTER    XLIV. 

Death    of    Twist. 

Gothenberg-,    Nebraska — Lexington    350 

CHAPTER  XLV. 

Kearney,    Nebraska. 

Grand    Island    356 

CHAPTER    XLVI. 
From   Indianapolis  to  Washington —Events   on   the  Way 360 

CHAPTER    XLVII. 
Leaving     Washington — Out     West     Again — From     Portland     to 

Seattle     370 

CHAPTER    XLVIII. 
The    End    380 


PUBLISHED  BY  THE  AUTHOR 
Cloth  $1.50  Postpaid 

Address  :    Ezra  Meeker,  1201  38th  Ave.  N. 
Seattle,  Wash. 


DEDICATION 
To  the  Pioneers  of  the  Old  Oregon  Country 


For  Illustrations  See  Appendix 


The  Dream  of  the  Star 


[A  Song  of  the  Oregon  Trail.     Dedicated  to  Ezra 
Meeker,  Pioneer.] 

I 

A  song  for  the  men  who  blazed  the  way! 

With  hearts  that  would  not  quail 
They  made  brave  quest  of  the  wild  Northwest, 

They  cut  the  Oregon  trail. 

Back  of  them  beckoned  their  kith  and  kin 
And  all  that  they  held  their  own; 

Front  of  them  spread  the  wilderness  dread, 
And  ever  the  vast  unknown. 

But  ever  they  kept  their  forward  course, 
And  never   they   thought   to  lag, 

For  over  them  flew  the  Red,  White  and  Blue 
And  the  dream  of  a  star  for  the  flag! 

II 

A  cheer  for  the  men  who  cut  the  trail! 

With   souls  as  firm  as  steel 
And  fiery  as  wrath  they  hewed   the  jath 

For  the  coming  Commonweal. 

And  close  on  the  heels  of  the  pioneers 

The  eager  throng  closed  in 
And  followed  the  road  to  a  far  abode, 

An  Empire  new  to  win. 

And  so  they  wrought  at  the  end  of  the  trail, 

As  ever  must  brave  men  do, 
Till  out  of  the  dark  there  gleamed  a  spark, 

And  the  dream  of  the  star  came  true! 

Ill 

A  toast  to  the  men  who  made  the  road! 

And  a  health  to  the  men  who  dwell 
In  the  great  new  land  by  the  heroes  planned, 

Who  have  builded  it  wide  and  well! 

The  temple  stands  where  the  pine  tree  stood, 

And  dim  is  the  ancient  trail, 
But  many  and  wide  are  the  roads  that  guide 

And  staunch  are  the  ships  that   sail! 

For  the  land  is  a  grand  and  goodly  land, 
And  its  fruitful  fields  are  tilled 

By  the  sons  who  see  on   the  flag  of   the   free 
The  dream  of  the    star  fulfilled! 

ROBERTUS  LOVE. 


Ventures  and  Adventures 

OF 

Ezra  Meeker 


PREFACE 

Just  why  I  should  write  a  preface  I  know  not.  except 
that  it  is  fashionable  to  do  so.  and  yet  in  the  present  case 
there  would  seem  a  little  explanation  due  the  reader,  who 
may  cast  his  eye  on  the  first  chapter  of  this  work. 

Indeed,  that  chapter,  "Early  Days  in  Indiana."  may 
properly  be  termed  an  introduction,  though  quite  inti- 
mately connected  with  the  narrative  that  follows,  yet  not 
necessary  to  make  a  completed  story  of  the  trip  to  Oregon 
in  the  early  fifties. 

The  enlarged  scope  of  this  work,  narrating  incidents 
not  connected  with  the  Oregon  Trail  or  the  Ox  Team 
expedition,  may  call  for  this  explanation,  that  the  au- 
thor's thought  has  been  to  portray  frontier  life  in  the  Old 
Oregon  Country,  as  well  as  pioneer  life  on  the  plains;  to 
live  his  experiences  of  sixty  years  over  again,  and  tell 
them  in  plain,  homely  language,  to  the  end  the  later 
generation  may  know  how  the  "fathers"  lived,  what  they 
did,  and  what  they  thought  in  the  long  ago. 

An  attempt  has  been  made  to  teach  the  young  a 
lesson  of  industry,  frugality,  upright  and  altruistic  living 
as  exemplified  in  the  lives  of  the  pioneers. 

While  acknowledging  the  imperfections  of  the  work, 
yet  to  parents  I  can  sincerely  say  they  may  safely  place 
this  volume  in  the  home  without  fear  that  the  adventures 
recited  will  arouse  a  morbid  craving  in  the  minds  of  their 
children.  The  adventures  are  of  real  life,  and  incident  to 
a  serious  purpose  in  life,  and  not  stories  of  fancy  to  make 
exciting  reading,  although  some  of  them  may  seem  as 
such. 

"Truth  is  stranger  than  fiction,"  and  the  pioneers 
have  no  need  to  borrow  from  their  imagination. 


CHAPTER  I. 

AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

I  was  born  at  Huntsville,  Butler  county,  Ohio,  about 
ten  miles  east  of  Hamilton,  Ohio.  This,  to  me.  important 
event  occurred  on  December  29,  A.  D.  1830,  hence  I  am 
many  years  past  the  usual  limit  of  three  score  years 
and  ten. 

My  father's  ancestors  came  from  England  in  1637 
and  in  1665  settled  near  Elizabeth  City,  New  Jersey, 
built  a  very  substantial  house  which  is  still  preserved, 
furnished  more  than  a  score  of  hardy  soldiers  in  the 
War  of  Independence,  and  were  noted  for  their  stalwart 
strength,  steady  habits,  and  patriotic  ardor.  My  father 
had  lost  nothing  of  the  original  sturdy  instincts  of  the 
stock  nor  of  the  stalwart  strength  incident  to  his  an- 
cestral breeding.  I  remember  that  for  three  years,  at 
Carlyle's  flouring  mill  in  the  then  western  suburbs  Of 
Indianapolis,  Ind.,  he  worked  18  hours  a  day,  as  miller. 
He  had  to  be  on  duty  by  7  o'clock  a.  m.,  and  remained  on 
duty  until  1  o'clock  the  next  morning,  and  could  not 
leave  the  mill  for  dinner; — all  this  for  $20  per  month, 
and  bran  for  the  cow,  and  yet  his  health  was  good  and 
strength  seemed  the  same  as  when  he  began  the  ordeal. 
My  mother's  maiden  name  was  Phoeba  Baker.  A  strong 
English  and  "Welch  strain  of  blood  ran  in  her  veins,  but 
I  know  nothing  farther  back  than  my  grandfather  Baker, 
who  settled  in  Butler  county,  Ohio,  in  the  year  1804,  or 
thereabouts.  My  mother,  like  my  father,  could  and  did 
endure   continuous   long   hours   of   severe   labor   without 


20  VENTURES    AND   ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA   MEEKER 

much  discomfort,  in  her  household  duties.  I  have  known 
her  frequently  to  patch  and  mend  our  clothing  until  11 
o'clock  at  niuhl  and  yet  would  invariably  be  up  in  the 
morning  by  4:00  and  resume  her  labors. 

Both  my  parents  were  sincere,  though  not  austere 
Christian  people,  my  mother  in  particular  inclining  to  a 
liberal  faith,  but  both  were  in  early  days  members  of  the 
"Disciples,"  or  as  sometimes  known  as  "Newlites,"  after- 
wards,  I  believe,  merged  with  the  "Christian"  church, 
popularly  known  as  the  "Campbellites,"  and  were  ardent 
admirers  of  Love  Jameson,  who  presided  so  long  over  the 
Christian  organization  at  Indianapolis,  and  whom  I  par- 
ticularly remember  as  one  of  the  sweetest  singers  that 
I  ever  heard. 

Small  wonder  that  with  such  parents  and  with  such 
surroundings  I  am  able  to  say  that  for  fifty-eight  years  of 
married  life  I  have  never  been  sick  in  bed  a  single  day. 
and  that  I  can  and  have  endured  long  hours  of  labor 
during  my  whole  life,  and  what  is  particularly  gratifying 
that  I  can  truthfully  say  that  I  have  always  loved  my 
work  and  that  I  never  watched  for  the  sun  to  go  down 
to  relieve  me  from  the  burden  of  labor. 

"Burden  of  labor?"  Why  should  any  man  call  labor 
a  burden  ?  It's  the  sweetest  pleasure  of  life,  if  we  will 
but  look  aright.  Give  me  nothing  of  the  'man  with  the 
hoe'  sentiment,  as  depicted  by  Markham,  but  let  me  see 
the  man  with  a  light  heart;  that  labors;  that  fulfills  a 
destiny  the  good  God  has  given  him  ;  that  fills  an  hon- 
ored place  in  life  even  if  in  an  humble  station ;  that  looks 
upon  the  bright  side  of  life  while  striving  as  best  he  may 
to  do  his  duty.  I  am  led  into  these  thoughts  by  what  I 
see  around  about  me,  so  changed  from  that  of  my  bov- 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  21 

hood  days  where  labor  was  held  to  be  honorable,  even 
though  in  humble  stations. 

But,  to  return  to  my  story.  My  earliest  recollection, 
curiously  enough,  is  of  my  schoolboy  days,  of  which  I 
had  so  few.  I  was  certainly  not  five  years  old  when  a 
drunken,  brutal  school  teacher  undertook  to  spank  me 
while  holding  me  on  his  knees  because  I  did  not  speak 
a  word  plainly.  That  is  the  first  fight  I  have  any  recol- 
lection of,  and  would  hardly  remember  that  but  for  the 
witnesses,  one  of  them  my  oldest  brother,  who  saw  the 
struggle,  where  my  teeth  did  such  excellent  work  as  to 
draw  blood  quite  freely.  What  a  spectacle  that,  of  a 
half-drunken  teacher  maltreating  his  scholars !  But  then 
that  was  a  time  before  a  free  school  system,  and  when 
the  parson  would  not  hesitate  to  take  a  "wee  bit,"  and 
when,  if  the  decanter  was  not  on  the  sideboard,  the  jug 
and  gourd  served  well  in  the  field  or  house.  To  harvest 
without  whisky  in  the  field  was  not  to  be  thought  of; 
nobody  ever  heard  of  a  log-rolling  or  barn-raising  with- 
out whisky.  And  so  I  will  say  to  the  zealous  temperance 
reformers,  be  of  good  cheer,  for  the  world  has  moved  in 
these  seventy-eight  years.  Be  it  said,  though,  to  the  ever- 
lasting honor  of  my  father,  that  he  set  his  head  firmly 
against  the  practice,  and  said  his  grain  should  rot  in  the 
field  before  he  would  supply  whisky  to  his  harvest  hands, 
and  I  have  no  recollections  of  ever  but  once  tasting  any 
alcoholic  liquors  in  my  boyhood  days. 

I  did,  however,  learn  to  smoke  when  very  young.  It 
came  about  in  this  way :  My  mother  always  smoked,  as 
long  as  I  can  remember.  Women  those  days  smoked  as 
well  as  men,  and  nothing  was  thought  of  it. 

Well,  that  was  before  the  time  of  matches,  or  least- 


22  VENTURES   AND  ADVENTURES   OF   EZRA  MEEKER 

wise,  it  was  a  time  when  it  was  thought  necessary  to 
economize  in  their  use,  and  mother,  who  was  a  corpulent 
won  in  ii,  would  send  me  to  put  a  coal  in  her  pipe,  and 
so  I  Mould  take  a  whiff  or  two,  just  to  get  it  started,  you 
know,  which,  however,  soon  developed  into  the  habit  of 
lingering  to  keep  it  going.  But  let  me  be  just  to  myself, — 
for  more  than  twenty  years  ago  I  threAv  away  my  pipe 
and  have  never  smoked  since,  and  never  will,  and  now 
to  those  smokers  who  say  they  "can't  quit"  I  want  to  call 
their  attention  to  one  case  of  a  man  who  did. 

.My  next  recollection  of  school-days  was  after  father 
had  moved  to  Lockland,  Ohio,  then  ten  miles  north  of 
Cincinnati,  now,  I  presume,  a  suburb  of  that  great  city. 
I  played  "hookey"  instead  of  going  to  school,  but  one  day 
while  under  the  canal  bridge  the  noise  of  passing  teams 
so  frightened  me  that  I  ran  home  and  betrayed  myself. 
Did  my  mother  whip  me?  Why,  God  bless  her  dear  old 
soul,  no.  Whipping  of  children,  though,  both  at  home  and 
in  the  school-room,  was  then  about  as  common  as  eating 
one's  breakfast;  but  my  parents  did  not  think  it  was 
necessary  to  rule  by  the  rod,  though  then  their  family 
government  was  exceptional.  And  so  we  see  now  a  differ- 
ent rule  prevailing,  and  see  that  the  world  does  move  and 
is  getting  better. 

After  my  father's  removal  to  Indiana  times  were 
"hard,"  as  the  common  expression  goes,  and  all  members 
of  the  household  for  a  season  were  called  upon  to  con- 
tribute their  mite.  I  drove  four  yoke  of  oxen  for  twenty- 
five  cents  a  day,  and  a  part  of  that  time  boarded  at  home 
at  that.  This  was  on  the  Wabash  where  oak  grubs  grew, 
as  father  often  said,  "as  thick  as  hair  on  a  dog's  back," 
but  not  so  thick  as  that.     But  we  used  to  force  the  big 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  23 

plow  through  and  cut  grubs  with  the  plow  shear,  as 
big  as  my  wrist ;  and  when  we  saw  a  patch  of  them  ahead, 
then  was  when  I  learned  how  to  halloo  and  rave  at  the  poor 
oxen  and  inconsiderately  whip  them,  but  father  wouldn't 
let  me  swear  at  them.  Let  me  say  parenthetically  that  I 
have  long  since  discontinued  such  a  foolish  practice,  and 
that  I  now  talk  to  my  oxen  in  a  conversational  tone  of 
voice  and  use  the  whip  sparingly.  When  father  moved 
to  Indianapolis,  I  think  in  1842,  "times"  seemed  harder 
than  ever,  and  I  was  put  to  work  wherever  an  opportunity 
for  employment  offered,  and  encouraged  by  my  mother 
to  seek  odd  jobs  and  keep  the  money  myself,  she,  however, 
becoming  my  banker ;  arid  in  three  years  I  had  actually 
accumulated  $37.00.  My!  but  what  a  treasure  that  was 
to  me,  and  what  a  bond  of  confidence  between  my  mother 
and  myself,  for  no  one  else,  as  I  thought,  knew  about  my 
treasure.  I  found  out  afterwards,  though,  that  father 
knew  about  it  all  the  time. 

My  ambition  was  to  get  some  land.  I  had  heard 
there  was  a  forty-acre  tract  in  Hendrix  county  (Indiana) 
yet  to  be  entered  at  $1.25  per  acre,  and  as  soon  as  I  could 
get  $50.00  together  I  meant  to  hunt  up  that  land  and 
secure  it.  I  used  to  dream  about  that  land  day  times 
as  well  as  at  night.  I  sawed  wood  and  cut  each  stick 
twice  for  twenty-five  cents  a  cord,  and  enjoyed  the  ex- 
perience, for  at  night  I  could  add  to  my  treasure.  It  was 
because  my  mind  did  not  run  on  school  work  and  because 
of  my  restless  disposition  that  my  mother  allowed  me 
to  do  this  instead  of  compelling  me  to  attend  school,  and 
which  cut  down  my  real  schoolboy  days  to  less  than  six 
months.  It  was,  to  say  the  least,  a  dangerous  experiment 
and   one   which    only   a   mother    (who   knows    her   child 


24  VENTURES    AND  ADVENTURES   OP  EZRA  MEEKER 

better  than  all  others)  dare  take,  and  I  will  not  by  any 
means  advise  other  mothers  to  adopt  such  a  course. 

Then  when  did  you  get  your  education?  the  casual 
reader  may  ask.  I  will  tell  you  a  story.  When  in  1870 
I  wrote  my  first  book  (long  since  out  of  print),  "Wash- 
ington Territory  West  of  the  Cascade  Mountains,"  and 
submitted  the  work  to  the  Eastern  public,  a  copy  fell 
into  the  hands  of  Jay  Cook,  who  then  had  six  power 
presses  running  advertising  the  Northern  Pacific  railroad, 
and  he  at  once  took  up  my  whole  edition.  Mr.  Cook, 
whom  T  met,  closely  questioned  me  as  to  where  I  was 
educated.  After  having  answered  his  many  queries  about 
my  life  on  the  frontier  he  would  not  listen  to  my  dis- 
claimer that  I  was  not  an  educated  man,  referring  to  the 
work  in  his  hand.  The  fact  then  dawned  on  me  that  it 
was  the  reading  of  the  then  current  literature  of  the  day 
that  had  taught  me.  I  answered  that  the  New  York 
Tribune  had  educated  me,  as  I  had  then  been  a  close  reader 
of  that  paper  for  eighteen  years,  and  it  was  there  I  got 
my  pure  English  diction,  if  I  possessed  it.  We  received 
mails  only  twice  a  month  for  a  long  time,  and  sometimes 
only  once  a  month,  and  it  is  needless  to  say  that  all  the 
matter  in  the  paper  was  read  and  much  of  it  re-read  and 
studied  in  the  cabin  and  practiced  in  the  field.  However, 
I  do  not  set  my  face  against  school  training,  but  can 
better  express  my  meaning  by  the  quaint  saying  that  "'too 
much  of  a  good  thing  is  more  than  enough,"  a  phrase  in 
a  way  senseless,  which  yet  conveys  a  deeper  meaning  than 
the  literal  words  express.  The  context  will  show  the  lack 
of  a  common  school  education,  after  all,  was  not  entirely 
for  want  of  an  opportunity,  but  from  my  aversion  to  con- 
finement and  preference  for  work  to  study. 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  25 

In  those  days  apprenticeship  was  quite  common,  and 
it  was  not  thought  to  be  a  disgrace  for  a  child  to  be 
"bound  out"  until  he  was  twenty-one,  the  more  especially 
if  this  involved  learning  a  trade.  Father  took  a  notion 
he  would  "bind  me  out"  to  a  Mr.  Arthens,  the  mill  owner 
at  Lockland,  who  was  childless,  and  took  me  with  him 
one  day  to  talk  it  over.  Finally,  when  asked  how  I  would 
like  the  change,  I  promptly  replied  that  it  would  be  all 
right  if  Mrs.  Arthens  would  "do  up  my  sore  toes,"  where- 
upon there  was  such  an  outburst  of  merriment  that  I 
always  remembered  it.  We  must  remember  that  boys  in 
those  days  did  not  wear  shoes  in  summer  and  quite  often 
not  in  winter  either.  But  mother  put  a  quietus  on  the 
whole  business  and  said  the  family  must  not  be  divided, 
and  it  was  not,  and  in  that  she  was  right.  Give  me  the 
humble  home  for  a  child,  that  is  a  home  in  fact,  rather 
than  the  grandest  palace  where  home  life  is  but  a  sham. 

I  come  now  to  an  important  event  of  my  life,  when 
father  moved  from  Lockland,  Ohio,  to  near  Covington, 
Indiana.  I  was  not  yet  seven  years  old,  but  walked 
all  the  way  behind  the  wagon  and  began  building 
"castles  in  the  air,"  which  is  the  first  (but  by  no  means 
the  last)  that  I  remember.  We  were  going  out  to  Indiana 
to  be  farmers,  and  it  was  here,  near  the  banks  of  the 
Wabash,  that  I  learned  the  art  of  driving  four  yoke  of 
oxen  to  a  breaking  plow,  without  swearing. 

That  reminds  me  of  an  after-experience,  the  summer 
I  was  nineteen.  Uncle  John  Kinworthy  (good  old  soul 
he  was),  an  ardent  Quaker,  who  lived  a  mile  or  so  out 
from  Bridgeport,  Indiana,  asked  me  one  day  while  I  was 
passing  his  place  with  three  yoke  of  oxen  to  haul  a  heavy 
cider  press  beam  in  place.    This  led  the  oxen  through  the 


26    VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

front  dooryard  and  in  full  sight  and  hearing  of  three  bux- 
om Quaker  girls,  who  either  stood  in  the  door  or  poked 
their  heads  out  of  the  window,  in  company  with  their  good 
mother.  Go  through  the  front  yard  past  those  girls  the  cat- 
tle would  not,  and  kept  doubling  back,  first  on  one  side  and 
then  on  the  other.  Uncle  Johnny,  noticing  I  did  not  swear 
at  the  cattle,  and  attributing  the  absence  of  oaths  to  the 
presence  of  ladies,  or  maybe,  like  a  good  many  others, 
he  thought  oxen  could  not  be  driven  without  swearing  at 
them,  sought  an  opportunity,  when  the  mistress  of  the 
house  could  not  hear  him,  and  said  in  a  low  tone,  "If 
thee  can  do  any  better,  thee  had  better  let  out  the  word." 
Poor,  good  old  soul,  he  doubtless  justified  himself  in  his 
own  mind  that  it  was  no  more  sin  to  swear  all  the  time 
than  part  of  the  time ;  and  why  is  it  ?  I  leave  the  answer 
to  that  person,  if  he  can  be  found,  that  never  swears. 

Yes,  I  say  again,  give  me  the  humble  home  for  a 
child,  that  is  a  home  in  fact,  rather  than  the  grandest 
palace  where  home  life  is  but  a  sham.  And  right  here  is 
where  this  generation  has  a  grave  problem  to  solve,  if  it's 
not  the  gravest  of  the  age,  the  severance  of  child  life 
from  the  real  home  and  the  real  home  influences,  by  the 
factory  child  labor,  the  boarding  schools,  the  rush  for 
city  life,  and  so  many  others  of  like  influences  at  work, 
that  one  can  only  take  time  to  mention  examples. 

And  now  the  reader  will  ask,  What  do  you  mean  by 
the  home  life,  and  to  answer  that  I  will  relate  some  feat- 
ures of  my  early  home  life,  though  by  no  means  would 
say  that  I  would  want  to  return  to  all  the  ways  of  "ye 
olden  times." 

My  mother  always  expected  each  child  to  have  a  duty 
to  perform,  as  well  as  time  to  play.     Light  labor,  to  be 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  27 

sure,  but  labor;  something  of  service.  Our  diet  was  so 
simple,  the  mere  mention  of  it  may  create  a  smile  with 
the  casual  reader.  The  mush  pot  was  a  great  factor  in 
our  home  life;  a  great  heavy  iron  pot  that  hung  on  the 
crane  in  the  chimney  corner  where  the  mush  would  slowly 
bubble  and  splutter  over  or  near  a  bed  of  oak  coals  for 
half  the  afternoon.  And  such  mush,  always  made  from 
yellow  corn  meal  and  cooked  three  hours  or  more.  This, 
eaten  with  plenty  of  fresh,  rich  milk,  comprised  the  supper 
for  the  children.  Tea?  Not  to  be  thought  of.  Sugar? 
It  was  too  expensive — cost  fifteen  to  eighteen  cents  a 
pound,  and  at  a  time  it  took  a  week's  labor  to  earn  as 
much  as  a  day's  labor  now.  Cheap  molasses,  sometimes, 
but  not  often.  Meat,  not  more  than  once  a  day,  but  eggs 
in  abundance.  Everything  father  had  to  sell  was  low- 
priced,  while  everything  mother  must  buy  at  the  store 
was  high.  Only  to  think  of  it,  you  who  complain  of  the 
hard  lot  of  the  workers  of  this  generation :  wheat  twenty- 
five  cents  a  bushel,  corn  fifteen  cents,  pork  two  and  two 
and  a  half  cents  a  pound,  with  bacon  sometimes  used  as 
fuel  by  the  reckless,  racing  steamboat  captains  of  the 
Ohio  and  Mississippi.  But  when  we  got  onto  the  farm 
with  abundance  of  fruit  and  vegetables,  with  plenty  of 
pumpkin  pies  and  apple  dumplings,  our  cup  of  joy  was 
full,  and  we  were  the  happiest  mortals  on  earth.  As  I 
have  said,  4:00  o'clock  scarcely  ever  found  mother  in 
bed,  and  until  within  very  recent  years  I  can  say  that  5  :00 
o'clock  almost  invariably  finds  me  up.  Habit,  do  you  say? 
No,  not  wholly,  though  that  may  have  something  to  do 
with  it,  but  I  get  up  early  because  I  want  to,  and  because 
I  have  something  to  do. 

When  I  was  born,  thirty  miles  of  railroad  comprised 


28    VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

the  whole  mileage  of  the  United  States,  and  this  only  a 
tramway.  Now,  how  many  hundred  thousand  miles  I 
know  not,  but  many  miles  over  the  two  hundred  thousand 
mark.  When  I  crossed  the  great  states  of  Illinois  and 
Iowa  on  my  way  to  Oregon  in  1852  not  a  mile  of  railroad 
was  seen  in  either  state.  Only  four  years  before,  the  first 
line  was  built  in  Indiana,  really  a  tramway,  from  Madison, 
on  the  Ohio  river,  to  Indianapolis.  What  a  furore  the 
building  of  that  railroad  created !  Earnest,  honest  men 
opposed  the  building  just  as  sincerely  as  men  now  advo- 
cate public  ownership ;  both  propositions  are  fallacious, 
the  one  long  since  exploded,  the  other  in  due  time,  as  sure 
to  die  out  as  the  first.  My  father  was  a  strong  advocate 
of  the  railroads,  but  I  caught  the  arguments  on  the  other 
side  advocated  with  such  vehemence  as  to  have  the  sound 
of  anger.  What  will  our  farmers  do  with  their  hay  if  all 
the  teams  that  are  hauling  freight  to  the  Ohio  river  are 
thrown  out  of  employment?  What  will  the  tavern  keep- 
ers do?  What  will  become  of  the  wagoners?  A  hundred 
such  queries  would  be  asked  by  the  opponents  of  the 
railroad  and,  to  themselves,  triumphantly  answered  that 
the  country  would  be  ruined  if  railroads  were  built. 
Nevertheless,  Indianapolis  has  grown  from  ten  thousand 
to  much  over  a  hundred  thousand,  notwithstanding  the 
city  enjoyed  the  unusual  distinction  of  being  the  first 
terminal  city  in  the  state  of  Indiana.  I  remember  it  was 
the  boast  of  the  railroad  magnates  of  that  day  that  they 
would  soon  increase  the  speed  of  their  trains  to  fourteen 
miles  an  hour, — this  when  they  were  running  twelve. 

In  the  year  1845  a  letter  came  from  Grandfather 
Baker  to  my  mother  that  he  would  give  her  a  thousand 
dollars  with  which  to  buy  a  farm.    The  burning  question 


AUTOBIOGRAI   I1Y  29: 

with  my  father  and  mother  was  how  to  get  that  money 
out  from  Ohio  to  Indiana.  They  actually  went  in  a  cov- 
ered wagon  to  Ohio  for  it  and  hauled  it  home,  all  silver, 
in  a  box.  This  silver  was  nearly  all  foreign  coin.  Prior 
to  that  time,  but  a  few  million  dollars  had  been  coined 
by  the  United  States  government.  Grandfather  Baker 
had  accumulated  this  money  by  marketing  small  things 
in  Cincinnati,  twenty-five  miles  distant.  I  have  heard  my 
mother  tell  of  going  to  market  on  horseback  with  grand- 
father many  times,  carrying  eggs,  butter  and  even  live 
chickens  on  the  horse  she  rode.  Grandfather  would  not 
go  in  debt,  and  so  he  lived  on  his  farm  a  long  time  with- 
out a  wagon,  but  finally  became  wealthy,  and  was  reputed 
to  have  a  "barrel  of  money"  (silver,  of  course),  out  of 
which  store  the  thousand  dollars  mentioned  came.  It 
took  nearly  a  whole  day  to  count  this  thousand  dollars, 
as  there  seemed  to  be  nearly  every  nation's  coin  on  earth 
represented,  and  the  "tables"  (of  value)  had  to  be  con- 
sulted, the  particular  coins  counted,  and  their  aggregate 
value  computed. 

It  was  this  money  that  bought  the  farm  five  miles 
southwest  of  Indianapolis,  where  I  received  my  first  real 
farm  training.  Father  had  advanced  ideas  about  farm- 
ing, though  a  miller  by  trade,  and  early  taught  me  some 
valuable  lessons  I  never  forgot.  We  (I  say  "we"  ad- 
visedly, as  father  continued  to  work  in  the  mill  and  left 
me  in  charge  of  the  farm)  soon  brought  up  the  run- 
down farm  to  produce  twenty-three  bushels  of  wheat  per 
acre  instead  of  ten,  by  the  rotation  of  corn,  and  clover 
and  then  wheat.  But  there  was  no  money  in  farming  at 
the  then  prevailing  prices,  and  the  land,  for  which  father 
paid  ten  dollars  an  acre,  would  not  yield  a  rental  equal 


ISO    VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  KZHA   MEEKER 

to  the  interest  on  the  money.  Now  that  same  land  is 
worth  two  hundred  dollars  an  acre. 

For  a  time  I  worked  in  the  Journal  printing  office 
for  S.  V.  B.  Noel,  who,  I  think,  was  the  publisher  of  the 
Journal,  and  also  printed  a  free-soil  paper.  A  part  of 
my  duty  was  to  deliver  those  papers  to  subscribers,  who 
treated  me  civilly,  but  when  I  was  caught  on  the  streets 
of  Indianapolis  with  the  papers  in  my  hand  I  was  sure 
of  abuse  from  some  one,  and  a  number  of  times  narrowly 
escaped  personal  violence.  In  the  office  I  worked  as 
roller  boy,  but  known  as  "the  devil,"  a  term  that  an- 
noyed me  not  a  little.  The  pressman  was  a  man  by  the 
name  of  Wood.  In  the  same  room  was  a  power  press, 
the  power  being  a  stalwart  negro  who  turned  a  crank 
We  used  to  race  with  the  power  press,  when  I  would  fly 
the  sheets,  that  is,  take  them  off  when  printed  with  one 
hand  and  roll  the  type  with  the  other.  This  so  pleased 
Noel  that  he  advanced  my  wages  to  $1.50  a  week. 

The  present  generation  can  have  no  conception  of 
the  brutal  virulence  of  the  advocates  of  slavery  against 
the  "nigger"  and  "nigger  lovers,"  as  all  were  known 
who  did  not  join  in  the  crusade  against  the  negroes. 

'One  day  we  heard  a  commotion  on  the  streets,  and 
upon  inquiry  were  told  that  "they  had  just  killed  a  nigger 
up  the  street,  that's  all,"  and  went  back  to  work  shocked, 
but  could  do  nothing.  But  when  a  little  later  word  came 
that  it  was  Wood's  brother  that  had  led  the  mob  and 
that  it  was  "old  Jimmy  Blake's  man"  (who  was  known 
as  a  sober,  inoffensive  colored  man)  consternation  seized 
Wood  as  with  an  iron  grip.  His  grief  was  inconsolable. 
The  negro  had  been  set  upon  by  the  mob  just  because 
he  was  a  negro  and  for  no  other  reason,  and  brutally 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  31 

murdered.  That  murder,  coupled  with  the  abuse  I  had 
received  at  the  hands  of  this  same  element,  set  me  to 
thinking,  and  I  then  and  there  embraced  the  anti-slavery 
doctrines  and  ever  after  adhered  to  them  until  the  ques- 
tion Avas  settled. 

One  of  the  subscribers  to  whom  I  delivered  that  anti- 
slavery  paper  was  Henry  Ward  Beecher,  who  had  then 
not  attained  the  fame  that  came  to  him  later  in  life,  but 
to  whom  I  became  attached  by  his  kind  treatment  and 
gentle  words  he  always  found  time  to  utter.  He  was  then, 
I  think,  the  pastor  of  the  Congregational  Church  that 
faced  the  "Governor's  circle."  The  church  has  long 
since  been  torn  down. 

One  episode  of  my  life  I  remember  because  I  thought 
my  parents  were  in  the  wrong.  Vocal  music  was  taught 
in  singing  schools,  almost,  I  might  say,  as  regular  as  day 
schools.  I  was  passionately  fond  of  music,  and  before 
the  change  came  had  a  splendid  alto  voice,  and  became  a 
leader  in  my  part  of  the  class.  This  coming  to  the  notice 
of  the  trustees  of  Beecher 's  church,  an  effort  was  made 
to  have  me  join  the  choir.  Mother  first  objected  because 
my  clothes  were  not  good  enough,  whereupon  an  offer 
was  made  to  suitably  clothe  me  and  pay  something  be- 
sides; but  father  objected  because  he  did  not  want  me  to 
listen  to  preaching  other  than  the  sect  (Campbellite)  to 
which  he  belonged.  The  incident  set  me  to  thinking,  and 
finally  drove  me,  young  as  I  was,  into  the  liberal  faith, 
though  I  dared  not  openly  espouse  it.  In  those  days  many 
ministers  openly  preached  of  endless  punishment  in  a 
lake  of  fire,  but  I  never  could  believe  that  doctrine,  and 
yet  their  words  would  carry  terror  into  my  heart.     The 


32  VENTURES   AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

ways  of  the   world  are  better  now  in  this,  as  in  many 
other  respects. 

Another  episode  of  my  life  while  working  in  the  print- 
ing office  I  have  remembered  vividly  all  these  years.  Dur- 
ing the  campaign  of  1844  the  Whigs  held  a  second  gather- 
ing on  the  Tippecanoe  battle-ground.  It  could  hardly  be 
called  a  convention.  A  better  name  for  the  gathering 
would  be  a  political  camp-meeting.  The  people  came  in 
wagons,  on  horseback,  a-foot, — any  way  to  get  there — 
and  camped  just  like  people  used  to  do  in  their  religious 
camp-meetings.  The  journeymen  printers  of  the  Journal 
office  planned  to  go  in  a  covered  dead-ax  wagon,  and 
signified  they  would  make  a  place  for  the  "devil,"  if  his 
parents  would  let  him  go  along.  This  was  speedily  ar- 
ranged with  mother,  who  always  took  charge  of  such 
matters.  The  proposition  coming  to  Noel's  ears  he  said 
for  the  men  to  print  me  some  campaign  songs,  which  they 
did  with  a  will,  Wood  running  them  off  the  press  after 
night  while  I  rolled  the  type  for  him.  My!  wasn't  I  the 
proudest  boy  that  ever  walked  the  earth?  Visions  of  a 
pocket  full  of  money  haunted  me  almost  day  and  night 
until  we  arrived  on  the  battlefield.  But  lo  and  behold, 
nobody  would  pay  any  attention  to  me.  Bands  of  music 
were  playing  here  and  there;  glee  clubs  would  sing  and 
march  first  on  one  side  of  the  ground  and  then  the  other; 
processions  were  marching  and  the  crowds  surging,  mak- 
ing it  necessary  for  one  to  look  out  and  not  get  run  over. 
Coupled  with  this,  the  rain  would  pour  down  in  torrents, 
but  the  marching  and  countermarching  went  on  all  the 
same  and  continued  for  a  week.  An  elderly  journeyman 
printer  named  May,  who  in  a  way  stood  sponsor  for  our 
party,  told  me  if  I  would  get  up  on  the  fence  and  sing  my 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  33 

songs  the  people  would  buy  them,  and  sure  enough  the 
crowds  came  and  I  sold  every  copy  I  had,  and  went  home 
with  eleven  dollars  in  my  pocket,  the  richest  boy  on  earth. 
It  was  about  this  time  the  start  was  made  of  printing 
the  Indianapolis  News,  a  paper  that  has  thriven  all  these 
after  years.  These  same  rollicking  printers  that  com- 
prised the  party  to  the  battle-ground  put  their  heads  to- 
gether to  have  some  fun,  and  began  printing  out  of  hours 
a  small  9x11  sheet  filled  with  short  paragraphs  of  sharp 
sayings  of  men  and  things  about  town,  some  more  ex- 
pressive than  elegant,  and  some,  in  fact,  not  fit  for  polite 
ears ;  but  the  pith  of  the  matter  was  they  treated  only  of 
things  that  were  true  and  of  men  moving  in  the  highest 
circles.  I  cannot  recall  the  given  names  of  any  of  these 
men.  May,  the  elderly  man  before  referred  to,  a  man 
named  Finly,  and  another,  Elder,  were  the  leading  spirits 
in  the  enterprise.  Wood  did  the  presswork  and  my  share 
was  to  ink  the  type,  and  in  part  stealthily  distribute  the 
papers,  for  it  was  a  great  secret  where  they  came  from 
at  the  start — all  this  "just  for  the  fun  of  the  thing,"  but 
the  sheet  caused  so  much  comment  and  became  sought 
after  so  much  that  the  mask  was  thrown  off  and  the  little 
paper  launched  as  a  "semi-occasional"  publication  and 
"sold  by  carrier  only,"  all  this  after  hours,  when  the 
regular  day's  work  was  finished.  I  picked  up  quite  a 
good  many  fip-i-na-bits  (a  coin  representing  the  value  of 
614  cents)  myself  from  the  sale  of  these.  After  a  while 
the  paper  was  published  regularly,  a  rate  established, 
and  the  little  paper  took  its  place  among  the  regular  pub- 
lications of  the  day.  This  writing  is  altogether  from 
memory  of  occurrences  sixty-five  years  ago,  and  may  be 
faulty  in  detail,  but  the  main  facts  are  true,  which  prob- 


34  VENTURKS  AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

ably  will  be  borne  out  by  the  files  of  the  great  newspaper 
that  has  grown  from  the  seed  sown  by  those  restless 
journeymen  printers. 

It  seems  though  that  I  was  not  "cut  out"  for  a 
printer.  My  inclination  ran  more  to  the  open  air  life, 
and  so  father  placed  me  on  the  farm  as  soon  as  the  pur- 
chase was  made  and  left  me  in  full  charge  of  the  work, 
while  he  turned  his  attention  to  milling.  Be  it  said  that 
I  early  turned  my  attention  to  the  girls  as  well  as  to  the 
farm,  married  young — before  I  had  reached  the  age  of 
twenty-one,  and  can  truly  say  this  was  a  happy  venture. 
At  this  writing  we  are  both  alive,  and  will  soon  be  able 
to  celebrate  our  fifty-eighth  wedding  anniversary. 

And  now  for  a  little  insight  into  these  times  of 
precious  memories  that  never  fade,  and  always  lend  glad- 
ness to  the  heart. 


EARLY   DAYS   IN    INDIANA  35 

CHAPTER  II. 

EARLY    DAYS    IN    INDIANA. 

In  the  early  '50s,  out  four  and  a  half  and  seven  miles, 
respectively,  from  Indianapolis,  Indiana,  there  lived  two 
young  people  with  their  parents,  who  were  old-time  farm- 
ers of  the  old  style,  keeping  no  "hired  man"  nor  buying 
many  "store  goods."  The  girl  could  spin  and  weave, 
make  delicious  butter,  knit  soft,  good  shapen  socks,  and 
cook  as  good  a  meal  as  any  other  country  girl  around 
about,  and  was,  withal,  as  buxom  a  lass  as  had  ever  been 
"born  and  raised  there  (Indiana)  all  her  life." 

These  were  times  when  sugar  sold  for  eighteen  cents 
per  pound,  calico  fifteen  cents  per  yard,  salt  three  dollars 
a  barrel,  and  all  other  goods  at  correspondingly  high 
prices ;  while  butter  would  bring  but  ten  cents  a  pound, 
eggs  five  cents  a  dozen,  and  wheat  but  two  bits  (twenty- 
five  cents)  a  bushel.  And  so,  when  these  farmers  went 
to  the  market  town  (Indianapolis)  care  was  taken  to 
carry  along  something  to  sell,  either  eggs,  or  butter,  or 
perhaps  a  half  dozen  pairs  of  socks,  or  maybe  a  few 
yards  of  home-made  cloth,  as  well  as  some  grain,  or  hay, 
or  a  bit  of  pork,  or  possibly  a  load  of  wood,  to  make  ends 
meet  at  the  store. 

The  young  man  was  a  little  uncouth  in  appearance, 
round-faced,  rather  stout  in  build — almost  fat — a  little 
boisterous,  always  restless,  and  without  a  very  good  ad- 
dress, yet  with  at  least  one  redeeming  trait  of  character — 


36    VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

he  loved  his  work  and  was  known  to  be  as  industrious  a 
lad  as  any  in  the  neighborhood. 

These  young  people  would  sometimes  meet  at  the 
"Brimstone  meeting-house,"  a  Methodist  church  known 
(far  and  wide)  by  that  name;  so  named  by  the  unregener- 
ate  because  of  the  open  preaching  of  endless  torment  to 
follow  non-church  members  and  sinners  after  death — 
a  literal  lake  of  fire — taught  with  vehemence  and  accom- 
panied by  boisterous  scenes  of  shouting  by  those  who  were 
"saved."  Amid  these  scenes  and  these  surroundings 
these  two  young  people  grew  up  to  the  age  of  manhood 
and  womanhood,  knowing  but  little  of  the  world  outside 
of  their  home  sphere, — and  who  knows  but  as  happy  as 
if  they  had  seen  the  whole  world?  Had  they  not  experi- 
enced the  joys  of  the  sugar  camp  while  "stirring  off" 
the  lively  creeping  maple  sugar?  Both  had  been  thumped 
upon  the  bare  head  by  the  falling  hickory  nuts  in  windy 
weather;  had  hunted  the  black  walnuts  half  hidden  in 
the  leaves;  had  scraped  the  ground  for  the  elusive  beech 
nuts;  had  even  ventured  to  apple  parings  together,  though 
not  yet  out  of  their  "teens." 

The  lad  hunted  the  'possum  and  the  coon  in  the 
White  River  bottom,  now  the  suburb  of  the  city  of 
Indianapolis,  and  had  cut  even  the  stately  walnut  trees, 
now  so  valuable,  that  the  cunning  coon  might  be  driven 
from  his  hiding  place. 

I'M  GOING  TO  BE  A  FARMER. 

"I'm  going  to  be  a  farmer  when  I  get  ma  tried."  the 
young  man  quite  abruptly  said  one  day  to  the  lass,  without 
any  previous  conversation  to  lead  up  to  such  an  assertion, 
to  the  confusion  of  his  companion,   who  could  not   mis- 


OFF   FOR    IOWA  37 

take  the  thoughts  that  prompted  the  words.  A  few 
months  later  the  lass  said,  "Yes,  I  want  to  be  a  farmer, 
too,  but  I  want  to  be  a  farmer  on  our  own  land,"  and 
two  bargains  were  confirmed  then  and  there  when  the 
lad  said,  "We  will  go  West  and  not  live  on  pap's  farm." 
"Nor  in  the  old  cabin,  nor  any  cabin  unless  it's  our  own." 
came  the  response,  and  so  the  resolution  was  made  that 
they  would  go  to  Iowa,  get  some  land  and  ' '  grow  up  with 
the  country." 

FOR  IOWA. 

About  the  first  week  of  October,  1851,  a  covered 
wagon  drew  up  in  front  of  Thomas  Sumner's  habitation, 
then  but  four  miles  out  from  Indianapolis  on  the  National 
road,  ready  to  be  loaded  for  the  start.  Eliza  Jane,  the 
second  daughter  of  that  noble  man,  the  "lass"  described, 
then  the  wife  of  the  young  man  mentioned,  the  author, 
was  ready,  with  cake  and  apple  butter  and  pumpkin  pies, 
jellies  and  the  like,  enough  to  last  the  whole  trip,  and 
plenty  of  substantial  besides.  Not  much  of  a  load  to  be 
sure,  but  it  was  all  we  had ;  plenty  of  blankets,  a  good 
sized  Dutch  oven,  and  each  an  extra  pair  of  shoes,  cloth 
for  two  new  dresses  for  the  wife,  and  for  an  extra  pair 
of  trousers  for  the  husband. 

Tears  could  be  restrained  no  longer  as  the  loading 
progressed  and  the  stern  realization  faced  the  parents  of 
both  that  the  young  couple  were  about  to  leave  them. 

"Why,  mother,  we  are  only  going  out  to  Iowa,  you 
know,  where  we  can  get  a  home; that  shall  be  our  own; 
it's  not  so  very  far — only  about  500  miles." 

"Yes,  I  know,  but  suppose  you  get  sick  in  that  un- 
inhabited country — who  will  care  for  you?" 


38  VENTURES   AND  ADVENTURES   OP  EZRA  MEEKER 

Notwithstanding-  this  motherly  solicitude,  the  young 
people  could  not  fail  to  know  that  there  was  a  secret 
feeling  of  approval  in  the  good  woman's  breast,  and 
when,  after  a  few  miles  travel,  the  reluctant  final  parting 
came,  could  not  then  know  that  this  loved  parent  would 
lay  down  her  life  a  few  years  later  in  an  heroic  attempt 
to  follow  the  wanderers  to  Oregon,  and  that  her  bones 
would  rest  in  an  unknown  and  unmarked  grave  of  the 
Platte  valley. 

Of  that  October  drive  from  the  home  near  Indianapo- 
lis to  Eddyville,  Iowa,  in  the  delicious  (shall  I  say  de- 
licious, for  what  other  word  expresses  it?)  atmosphere 
of  an  Indian  summer,  and  in  the  atmosphere  of  hope  and 
content;  hope  born  of  aspirations — content  with  our  lot, 
born  of  a  confidence  of  the  future,  what  shall  I  say? 
What  matter  if  we  had  but  a  few  dollars  in  money  and 
but  few  belongings? — we  had  the  wide  world  before  us; 
we  had  good  health ;  and  before  and  above  all  we  had 
each  other,  and  were  supremely  happy  and  rich  in  our 
anticipations. 

At  this  time  but  one  railroad  entered  Indianapolis — ■ 
it  would  be  called  a  tramway  now — from  Madison  on  the 
Ohio  river,  and  when  we  cut  loose  from  that  embryo  city 
we  left  railroads  behind  us,  except  such  as  were  found 
in  the  wagon  track  where  the  rails  were  laid  crossways 
to  keep  the  wagon  out  of  the  mud.  What  matter  if  the 
road  was  rough?  We  could  go  a  little  slower,  and  then 
wouldn't  we  have  a  better  appetite  for  our  supper  be- 
cause of  the  jolting,  and  wouldn't  we  sleep  a  little  sounder 
for  it?  And  so  everything  in  all  the  world  looked  bright, 
and  what  little  mishaps  did  befall  us  were  looked  upon 


AN    IOWA    WINTER  39 

with  light  hearts,  because  we  realized  that  they  might 
have  been  worse. 

The  great  Mississippi  river  was  crossed  at  Burlington, 
or  rather,  we  embarked  several  miles  down  the  river,  and 
were  carried  up  to  the  landing  at  Burlington,  and  after 
a  few  days'  further  driving  landed  in  Eddyville,  Iowa, 
destined  to  be  only  a  place  to  winter,  and  a  way  station 
on  our  route  to  Oregon. 

AN  IOWA  WINTER. 

My  first  introduction  to  an  Iowa  winter  was  in  a 
surveyor's  camp  on  the  western  borders  of  the  state,  a 
little  north  of  Kanesville  (now  Council  Bluffs),  as  cook 
of  the  party,  "which  position  was  speedily  changed  and 
that  of  flagman  assigned  to  me. 

If  there  are  any  settlers  now  left  of  the  Iowa  of  that 
day  (fifty-seven  years  ago)  they  will  remember  the  winter 
was  bitter  cold — the  "coldest  within  the  memory  of  the 
oldest  inhabitant."  On  my  trip  back  from  the  surveying 
party  above  mentioned  to  Eddyville,  just  before  Christ- 
mas, I  encountered  one  of  those  cold  days  long  to  be  re- 
membered. A  companion  named  Vance  rested  with  me 
over  night  in  a  cabin,  with  scant  food  for  ourselves  or 
the  mare  we  led.  It  was  thirty-five  miles  to  the  next 
cabin ;  we  must  reach  that  place  or  lay  out  on  the  snow. 
So  a  very  early  start  was  made — before  daybreak,  while 
the  wind  lay.  The  good  lady  of  the  cabin  baked  some 
biscuit  for  a  noon  lunch,  but  they  were  frozen  solid  in 
our  pockets  before  we  had  been  out  two  hours.  The 
wind  rose  with  the  sun,  and  with  the  sun  two  bright  sun- 
dogs,  one  on  each  side,  and  alongside  of  each,  but  slightly 
less   bright,    another — a    beautiful    sight   to    behold,    but 


40    VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES  OP  EZRA  MEEKER 

arising  from  conditions  intolerable  to  bear.  Vance  came 
near  freezing  to  death,  and  would  had  I  not  succeeded  in 
arousing  him  to  anger  and  gotten  him  off  the  mare. 

I  vowed  then  and  there  that  I  did  not  like  the  Iowa 
climate,  and  the  Oregon  fever  was  visibly  quickened. 
Besides,  if  I  went  to  Oregon  the  government  would  give 
us  320  acres  of  land,  while  in  Iowa  we  should  have  to 
purchase  it, — at  a  low  price  to  be  sure,  but  it  must  be 
bought  and  paid  for  on  the  spot.  There  were  no  pre- 
emption or  beneficent  homestead  laws  in  force  then,  and 
not  until  many  years  later.  The  country  was  a  wide, 
open,  rolling  prairie — a  beautiful  country  indeed — but 
what  about  a  market?  No  railroads,  no  wagon  roads,  no 
cities,  no  meeting-houses,  no  schools — the  prospect  looked 
drear.  How  easy  it  is  for  one  when  his  mind  is  once  bent 
against  a  country  to  conjure  up  all  sorts  of  reasons  to 
bolster  his,  perhaps  hasty,  conclusions ;  and  so  Iowa  was 
condemned  as  unsuited  to  our  life  abiding  place. 

But  what  about  going  to  Oregon  when  springtime 
came?  An  interesting  event  was  pending  that  rendered 
a  positive  decision  impossible  for  the  moment,  and  not 
until  the  first  week  of  April,  1852,  when  our  first-born 
baby  boy  was  a  month  old,  could  we  say  that  we  were 
going  to  Oregon  in  1852. 


OFF    FOR    OREGON  41 

CHAPTER  III. 

OFF   FOR    OREGON. 

I  have  been  asked  hundreds  of  times  how  many 
wagons  were  in  the  train  I  traveled  with,  and  what  train 
it  was,  and  who  was  the  captain? — assuming  that,  of 
course,  we  must  have  been  with  some  train. 

I  have  invariably  answered,  one  train,  one  wagon, 
and  that  we  had  no  captain.  What  I  meant  by  one  train 
is,  that  I  looked  upon  the  whole  emigration,  strung  out 
on  the  plains  five  hundred  miles,  as  one  train.  For  long 
distances  the  throng  was  so  great  that  the  road  was 
literally  filled  with  wagons  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach. 
At  Kanesville  where  the  last  purchases  were  made,  or  the 
last  letter  sent  to  anxious  friends,  the  congestion  became 
so  great  that  the  teams  were  literally  blocked,  and  stood 
in  line  for  hours  before  they  could  get  out  of  the  jam. 
Then,  as  to  a  captain,  we  didn't  think  we  needed  one,  and 
so  when  we  drove  out  of  Eddyville,  there  was  but  one 
wagon  in  our  train,  two  yoke  of  four-year-old  steers,  one 
yoke  of  cows,  and  one  extra  cow.  This  cow  was  the 
only  animal  we  lost  on  the  whole  trip — strayed  in  the 
Missouri  River  bottom  before  crossing. 

And  now  as  to  the  personnel  of  our  little  party. 
William  Buck,  who  became  my  partner  for  the  trip,  was 
a  man  six  years  my  senior,  had  had  some  experience  on 
the  Plains,  and  knew  about  the  outfit  needed,  but  had 
no  knowledge  in  regard  to  a  team  of  cattle.  I  He  was  an 
impulsive  man,  and  to  some  extent  excitable ;  yet  withal 


42  VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

a  man  of  excellent  judgment  and  as  honest  as  God  Al- 
mighty makes  men.  No  lazy  bones  occupied  a  place  in 
Buck's  body.  He  was  so  scrupulously  neat  and  cleanly 
that  some  might  say  he  was  fastidious,  but  such  was  not 
the  case.  His  aptitude  for  the  camp  work,  and  unfitness 
for  handling  the  team,  at  once,  as  we  might  say  by  nat- 
ural selection,  divided  the  cares  of  the  household,  sending 
the  married  men  to  the  range  with  the  team  and  the 
bachelor  to  the  camp.  The  little  wife  was  in  ideal  health, 
and  almost  as  particular  as  Buck  (not  quite  though), 
while  the  young  husband  would  be  a  little  more  on  the 
slouchy  order,  if  the  reader  will  pardon  the  use  of  that 
word,  more  expressive  than  elegant. 

Buck  selected  the  outfit  to  go  into  the  wagon,  while  I 
fitted  up  the  wagon  and  bought  the  team. 

We  had  butter,  packed  in  the  center  of  the  flour  in 
double  sacks ;  eggs  packed  in  corn  meal  or  flour,  to  last  us 
nearly  five  hundred  miles;  fruit  in  abundance,  and  dried 
pumpkins ;  a  little  jerked  beef,  not  too  salt,  and  last, 
though  not  least,  a  demijohn  of  brandy  for  "medicinal 
purposes  only,"  as  Buck  said,  with  a  merry  twinkle  of 
the  eye  that  exposed  the  subterfuge  which  he  knew  I 
understood  without  any  sign.  The  little  wife  had  pre- 
pared the  home-made  yeast  cake  which  she  knew  so  well 
how  to  make  and  dry,  and  we  had  light  bread  all  the 
way,  baked  in  a  tin  reflector  instead  of  the  heavy  Dutch 
ovens  so  much  in  use  on  the  Plains. 

Albeit  the  butter  to  a  considerable  extent  melted 
and  mingled  with  the  flour,  yet  we  were  not  much  dis- 
concerted, as  the  "short-cake"  that  followed  made  us 
almost  glad  the  mishap  had  occurred.  Besides,  did  we 
not  have  plenty  of  fresh  butter,  from  the  milk  of  our 


OFF  FOR  OREGON  43 

©wn  cows,  churned  every  day  in  the  can,  by  the  jostle 
of  the  wagon  1  Then  the  buttermilk !  What  a  luxury ! 
Yes,  that's  the  word — a  real  luxury.  I  will  never,  so  long 
as  I  live,  forget  that  short-cake  and  corn-bread,  the  pud- 
dings and  pumpkin  pies,  and  above  all  the  buttermilk. 
The  reader  who  smiles  at  this  may  well  recall  that  it  is 
the  small  things  that  make  up  the  happiness  of  life. 

But  it  was  more  than  that.  As  we  gradually  crept 
out  on  the  Plains  and  saw  the  sickness  and  suffering 
caused  by  improper  food  and  in  some  cases  from  im- 
proper preparation,  it  gradually  dawned  on  me  how 
blessed  I  Avas,  with  such  a  partner  as  Buck  and  such  a 
life  partner  as  the  little  wife.  Some  trains,  it  soon 
transpired,  were  without  fruit,  and  most  of  them  de- 
pended upon  saleratus  for  raising  their  bread.  Many  had 
only  fat  bacon  for  meat  until  the  buffalo  supplied  a 
change ;  and  no  doubt  much  of  the  sickness  attributed  to 
the  cholera  was  caused  by  an  ill-suited  diet. 

I  am  willing  to  claim  credit  for  the  team,  every  hoof 
of  which  reached  the  Coast  in  safety.  Four  (four-year- 
old)  steers  and  two  cows  were  sufficient  for  our  light 
wagon  and  light  outfit,  not  a  pound  of  which  but  was 
useful  (except  the  brandy)  and  necessary  for  our  com- 
fort. Not  one  of  these  steers  had  ever  been  under  the 
yoke,  though  plenty  of  "broke"  oxen  could  be  had,  but 
generally  of  that  class  that  had  been  broken  in  spirit  as 
well  as  in  training,  so  when  we  got  across  the  Des  Moines 
River  with  the  cattle  strung  out  to  the  wagon  and  Buck 
on  the  off  side  to  watch,  while  I,  figuratively  speaking, 
took  the  reins  in  hand,  we  may  have  presented  a  ludicrous 
sight,  but  did  not  have  time  to  think  whether  we  did  or 
not,  and  cared  but  little  so  the  team  would  go. 


44    VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  EZRA  MEEKER 
FIRST  DAY  OUT. 

The  first  day's  drive  out  from  Eddyville  was  a  short 
one,  and  so  far  as  I  now  remember  the  only  one  on  the 
entire  trip  where  the  cattle  were  allowed  to  stand  in  the 
yoke  at  noon  while  the  owners  lunched  and  rested.  I 
made  it  a  rule,  no  matter  how  short  the  noontime,  to 
unyoke  and  let  the  cattle  rest  or  eat  while  we  rested  and 
ate,  and  on  the  last  (1906)  trip  rigidly  adhered  to  that 
rule. 

An  amusing  scene  was  enacted  when,  at  near  night- 
fall, the  first  camp  was  made.  Buck  excitedly  insisted 
we  must  not  unyoke  the  cattle.  "Well,  what  shall  we 
do?"  I  asked;  "they  can't  live  in  the  yoke  always;  we 
will  have  to  unyoke  them  sometimes." 

"Yes,  but  if  you  unyoke  here  you  will  never  catch 
them  again,"  came  the  response.  One  word  brought  on 
another,  until  the  war  of  words  had  almost  reached  the 
stage  of  a  dispute,  when  a  stranger,  Thomas  McAuley, 
who  was  camped  near  by,  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye  I 
often  afterwards  saw  and  will  always  remember,  inter- 
fered and  said  his  cattle  Avere  gentle  and  there  were  three 
men  of  his  party  and  that  they  would  help  us  yoke  up  in 
the  morning.  I  gratefully  accepted  his  proffered  help, 
speedily  unyoked,  and  ever  after  that  never  a  word  with 
the  merest  semblance  of  contention  passed  between  Buck 
and  myself. 

Scanning  McAuley 's  outfit  the  next  morning  I  was 
quite  troubled  to  start  out  with  him,  his  teams  being 
light,  principally  cows,  and  thin  in  flesh,  with  wagons  ap- 
parently light  and  as  frail  as  the  teams.  But  I  soon 
found  that  his  outfit,  like  ours,  carried  no  extra  weight; 


FIRST    DAY    OUT  45 

that  he  knew  how  to  care  for  a  team ;  and  was,  withal,  an 
obliging  neighbor,  as  was  fully  demonstrated  on  many 
trying  occasions,  as  we  traveled  in  company  for  more 
than  a  thousand  miles,  until  his  road  to  California  parted 
from  ours  at  the  big  bend  of  the  Bear  River. 

Of  the  trip  through  Iowa  little  remains  to  be  said 
further  than  that  the  grass  was  thin  and  washy,  the 
roads  muddy  and  slippery,  and  weather  execrable,  al- 
though May  had  been  ushered  in  long  before  we  reached 
the  little  Mormon  town  of  Kanesville  (now  Council 
Bluffs),  a  few  miles  above  where  we  crossed  the  Missouri 
River. 


46     VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

CHAPTER  IV. 

CROSSING  THE  MISSOURI. 

"What  on  earth  is  that?"  exclaimed  Margaret  Mc- 
Auley,  as  Ave  approached  the  ferry  landing  a  few  miles 
below  where  Omaha  now  stands. 

"It  looks  for  all  the  world  like  a  great  big  white 
flatiron,"  answered  Eliza,  the  sister,  "doesn't  it,  Mrs. 
Meeker?"  But,  leaving  the  women  folks  to  their  similes, 
we  drivers  turned  our  attention  more  to  the  teams  as  we 
encountered  the  roads  "cut  all  to  pieces"  on  account  of 
the  concentrated  travel  as  we  neared  the  landing  and  the 
solid  phalanx  of  wagons  that  formed  the  flatiron  of  white 
ground. 

We  here  encountered  a  sight  indeed  long  to  be  re- 
membered. The  "flatiron  of  white"  that  Eliza  had  seen 
proved  to  be  wagons  with  their  tongues  pointing  to  the 
landing — a  center  train  with  other  parallel  trains  ex- 
tending back  in  the  rear  and  gradually  covering  a  wider 
range  the  further  back  from  the  river  one  would  go. 
Several  hundred  wagons  were  thus  closely  interlocked, 
completely  blocking  the  approach  to  the  landing  by  new 
arrivals,  whether  in  companies  or  single.  All  around 
about  were  camps  of  all  kinds,  from  those  without  cover- 
ing of  any  kind  to  others  with  comfortable  tents,  nearly 
all  seemingly  intent  on  merrymaking,  while  here  and 
there  were  small  groups  engaged  in  devotional  services. 
We  soon  ascertained  these  camps  contained  the  outfits, 
in  great  part,  of  the  wagons  in  line  in  the  great  white 


CROSSING    THE    MISSOURI  47 

flatiron,  some  of  whom  had  been  there  for  two  weeks 
with  no  apparent  probability  of  securing  an  early  cross- 
ing. At  the  turbulent  river  front  the  muddy  waters  of 
the  Missouri  had  already  swallowed  up  three  victims,  one 
of  whom  I  saw  go  under  the  drift  of  a  small  island  as  I 
stood  near  his  shrieking  wife  the  first  day  we  were  there. 
Two  scows  were  engaged  in  crossing  the  wagons  and 
teams.  In  this  case  the  stock  had  rushed  to  one  side  of 
the  boat,  submerged  the  gunwale,  and  precipitated  the 
whole  contents  into  the  dangerous  river.  One  yoke  of 
oxen,  having  reached  the  farther  shore,  deliberately 
entered  the  river  with  a  heavy  yoke  on  and  swam  to  the 
Iowa  side,  and  were  finally  saved  by  the  helping  hands  of 
the  assembled  emigrants. 

"What  should  we  do?"  was  passed  around,  without 
answer.  Tom  McAuley  was  not  yet  looked  upon  as  a 
leader,  as  was  the  case  later.  The  sister  Margaret,  a  most 
determined  maiden  lady,  the  oldest  of  the  party  and  as 
resolute  and  brave  as  the  bravest,  said  to  build  a  boat. 
But  of  what  should  we  built  it  ?  While  this  question  was 
under  consideration  and  a  search  for  material  made,  one 
of  our  party,  who  had  gotten  across  the  river  in  search 
of  timber,  discovered  a  scow,  almost  completely  buried, 
on  the  sandspit  opposite  the  landing,  "only  just  a  small 
bit  of  the  railing  and  a  corner  of  the  boat  visible."  The 
report  seemed  too  good  to  be  true.  The  next  thing  to  do 
was  to  find  the  owner,  which  in  a  search  of  a  day  we  did, 
eleven  miles  down  the  river.  "Yes,  if  you  will  stipulate 
to  deliver  the  boat  safely  to  me  after  crossing  your  five 
wagons  and  teams,  you  can  have  it,"  said  the  owner, 
and  a  bargain  was  closed  right  then  and  there.  My !  but 
didn't  we  make  the  sand  fly  that  night  from  that  boat? 


48  VENTURES   AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

By  morning  Ave  could  begin  to  see  the  end.  Then  busy 
hands  began  to  cut  a  landing  on  the  perpendicular  sandy 
bank  on  the  Iowa  side;  others  were  preparing  sweeps, 
and  all  was  bustle  and  stir  and  one  might  say  excitement. 
By  this  time  it  had  become  noised  around  that  an- 
other boat  would  be  put  on  to  ferry  people  over,  and  we 
were  besieged  with  applications  from  detained  emigrants. 
Finally,  the  word  coming  to  the  ears  of  the  ferrymen,  they 
were  foolish  enough  to  undertake  to  prevent  us  from 
crossing  ourselves.  A  writ  of  replevin  or  some  other  pro- 
cess was  issued,  I  never  knew  exactly  what,  directing  the 
sheriff  to  take  possession  of  the  boat  when  landed,  and 
which  he  attempted  to  do.  I  never  before  nor  since  at- 
tempted to  resist  an  officer  of  the  law,  nor  joined  to  accom- 
plish anything  by  force  outside  the  pale  of  the  law,  but 
when  that  sheriff  put  in  an  appearance,  and  we  realized 
what  it  meant,  there  wasn't  a  man  in  our  party  that  did 
not  run  for  his  gun  to  the  nearby  camp,  and  it  is  needless 
to  add  that  we  did  not  need  to  use  them.  As  if  by  magic 
a  hundred  guns  were  in  sight.  The  sheriff  withdrew,  and 
the  crossing  went  peaceably  on  till  all  our  wagons  were 
safely  landed.  But  we  had  another  danger  to  face;  we 
learned  that  there  would  be  an  attempt  made  to  take  the 
boat  from  us,  not  as  against  us,  but  as  against  the  owner, 
and  but  for  the  adroit  management  of  McAuley  and  my 
brother  Oliver  (who  had  joined  us")  we  would  have  been 
unable  to  fulfil  our  engagements  with  the  owner. 


OUT    ON    THE    PLAINS  49 

CHAPTER  V. 

OUT    ON    THE   PLAINS. 

When  we  stepped  foot  upon  the  right  bank  of  the 
Missouri  River  we  were  outside  the  pale  of  civil  law. 
We  were  within  the  Indian  country  where  no  organized 
civil  government  existed.  Some  people  and  some  writers 
have  assumed  that  each  man  was  "a  law-  unto  himself" 
and  free  to  do  his  own  will,  dependent,  of  course,  upon 
his  physical  ability  to  enforce  it. 

Nothing  could  be  further  from  the  facts  than  this 
assumption,  as  evil-doers  soon  found  out  to  their  dis- 
comfit. No  general  organization  for  law  and  order  was 
effected,  but  the  American  instinct  for  fair  play  and  for 
a  hearing  prevailed;  so  that  while  there  was  not  mob 
law,  the  law  of  self-preservation  asserted  itself,  and  the 
mandates  of  the  level-headed  old  men  prevailed;  ''a  high 
court  from  which  there  was  no  appeal,"  but  "a  high 
court  in  the  most  exalted  sense ;  a  senate  composed  of 
the  ablest  and  most  respected  fathers  of  the  emigration, 
exercising  both  legislative  and  judicial  power;  and  its 
laws  and  decisions  proved  equal  to  any  worthy  of  the 
high  trust  reposed  in  it,"  so  tersely  described  by  Apple- 
gate  as  to  conditions  when  the  first  great  train  moved 
out  on  the  Plains  in  1843.  that  I  quote  his  words  as 
describing  conditions  in  1852.  There  was  this  difference, 
however,  in  the  emigration  of  1843 — all,  by  agreement, 
belonged  to  one  or  the  other  of  the  two  companies,  the 
"cow  column"   or  the   "light  brigade,"   while  with   the 


50  VENTURES   AND   ADVENTURES   OP  EZRA  MEEKER 

emigrants  of  1852  it  is  safe  to  say  that  more  than  half 
did  not  belong  to  large  companies,  or  one  might  say  any 
organized  company.  .But  this  made  no  difference,  for 
when  ;in  occasion  called  for  action  a  "high  court"  was 
convened,  and  woe-betide  the  man  that  would  undertake 
to  defy  its  mandates  after  its  deliberations  were  made 
public. 

One  incident,  well  up  on  the  Sweetwater,  will  illus- 
trate  the  spirit  of  determination  of  the  sturdy  old  men 
(elderly,  I  should  say,  as  no  young  men  were  allowed  to 
sit  in  these  councils)  of  the  Plains,  while  laboring  under 
stress  of  grave  personal  cares  and  with  many  personal 
bereavements.  A  murder  had  been  committed,  and  it 
was  clear  that  the  motive  was  robbery.  The  suspect  had 
a  large  family,  and  was  traveling  along  with  the  moving 
column.  Men  had  volunteered  to  search  for  the  missing 
man  and  finally  found  the  proof  pointing  to  the  guilt  of 
the  suspect.  A  council  of  twelve  men  was  called  and 
deliberated  until  the  second  clay,  meanwhile  holding  the 
murderer  safely  within  their  grip.  What  were  they  to 
do?  Here  was  a  wife  and  four  little  children  depending 
upon  this  man  for  their  lives ;  what  would  become  of  his 
family  if  justice  was  meted  out  to  him  ?  Soon  there  came 
an  undercurrent  of  what  might  be  termed  public  opinion — 
that  it  was  probably  better  to  forego  punishment  than 
to  endanger  the  lives  of  the  family ;  but  the  council  would 
not  be  swerved  from  its  resolution,  and  at  sundown  of 
the  third  day  the  criminal  was  hung  in  the  presence  of 
the  whole  camp,  including  the  family,  but  not  until  ample 
provisions  had  been  made  to  insure  the  safety  of  the 
family  by  providing  a  driver  to  finish  the  journey.  I 
came  so  near  seeing  this  that  I  did  see  the  ends  of  the 


OUT  ON  THE  PLAINS  51 

wagon  tongues  in  the  air  and  the  rope  dangling  there- 
from, but  I  have  forgotten  the  names  of  the  parties,  and 
even  if  I  had  not,  would  be  loath  to  make  them  public. 

From  necessity,  murder  was  punishable  with  death : 
but  stealing,  by  a  tacit  understanding,  with  whipping, 
which,  when  inflicted  by  one  of  those  long  ox  lashes  in 
the  hands  of  an  expert,  would  bring  the  blood  from  the 
victim's  back  at  every  stroke.  Minor  offenses,  or  differ- 
ences generally,  took  the  form  of  arbitration,  the  decision 
of  which  each  party  would  abide  by,  as  if  emanating 
from  a  court  of  law. 

Lawlessness  was  not  common  on  the  Plains,  no  more 
so  than  in  the  communities  from  which  the  great  body 
of  the  emigrants  had  been  drawn ;  in  fact,  not  so  much 
so,  as  punishment  was  swift  and  certain,  and  that  fact 
had  its  deterrent  effect.  But  the  great  body  of  the  emi- 
grants were  a  law-abiding  people  from  law-abiding  com- 
munities. 

And  noAv  as  to  our  mode  of  travel.  I  did  not  enter 
an  organized  company,  neither  could  I  travel  alone.  Four 
wagons,  with  nine  men,  by  tacit  agreement,  traveled  to- 
gether for  a  thousand  miles,  and  separated  only  when 
our  roads  parted,  the  one  to  California,  the  other  to 
Oregon.  And  yet  we  were  all  the  while  in  one  great 
train,  never  out  of  sight  or  hearing  of  others.  In  fact, 
at  times,  the  road  would  be  so  full  of  wagons  that  all 
could  not  travel  in  one  track,  and  this  fact  accounts  for 
the  double  roadbeds  seen  in  so  many  places  on  the  trail. 
One  of  the  party  always  went  ahead  to  look  out  for  water, 
grass  and  fuel,  three  requisites  for  a  camping  place.  The 
grass  along  the  beaten  track  was  always  eaten  off  close 
by  the  loose  stock,  of  which  there  were  great  numbers, 


52  VENTURES   AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

and  so  we  had  frequently  to  take  the  cattle  long  dis- 
tances from  camp.  Then  came  the  most  trying  part  of 
the  whole  trip — the  all-night  watch,  which  resulted  in 
our  making  the  cattle  our  bed-fellows,  back  to  back  for 
warmth:  for  signal  as  well,  to  get  up  if  the  ox  did.  It 
was  not  long,  though,  till  we  were  used  to  it.  and  slept 
quit'.'  a  bi1  except  when  a  storm  struck  us;  well,  then, 
to  say  the  least,  it  was  not  a  pleasure  outing.  But  weren't 
we  glad  when  the  morning  came,  with,  perchance,  the 
smoke  of  the  campfire  in  sight,  and  maybe,  as  we  ap- 
proached, we  could  catch  the  aroma  of  the  coffee;  and 
then  sueh  tender  greetings  and  such  thoughtful  care 
that  would  have  touched  a  heart  of  stone,  and  to  us 
seemed  like  a  paradise.    We  were  supremely  happy. 

People,  too,  often  brought  their  own  ills  upon  them- 
selves by  their  indiscreet  action,  especially  in  the  loss 
of  their  teams.  The  trip  had  not  progressed  far  until 
there  came  a  universal  outcry  against  the  heavy  loads 
and  unnecessary  articles,  and  soon  we  began  to  see 
abandoned  property.  First  it  might  be  a  table  or  a  cup- 
board, or  perhaps  a  bedstead  or  a  heavy  cast-iron  cook- 
stove.  Then  began  to  be  seen  bedding  by  the  wayside, 
feather  beds,  blankets,  quilts,  pillows — everything  of  the 
kind  that  mortal  man  might  want.  And  so,  very  soon 
here  and  there  an  abandoned  wagon  could  be  seen,  pro- 
visions, stacks  of  flour  and  bacon  being  the  most  abun- 
dant— all  left  as  common  property.  Help  yourself  if  you 
will;  no  one  will  interfere;  and,  in  fact,  in  some  places  a 
sign  was  posted  inviting  all  to  take  what  they  wanted. 
Hundreds  of  wagons  were  left  and  hundreds  of  tons  of 
goods.  People  seemed  to  vie  with  each  other  to  give 
away  their  property,  there  being  no  chance  to  sell,  and 


OUT  ON  THE  PLAINS  53 

they  disliked  to  destroy.  Long  after  the  mania  for  get- 
ting rid  of  goods  and  lightening  the  load,  the  abandon- 
ment of  wagons  continued,  as  the  teams  became  weaker 
and  the  ravages  of  cholera  struck  us.  It  was  then  that 
many  lost  their  heads  and  ruined  their  teams  by  furious 
driving,  by  lack  of  care,  and  by  abuse.  There  came  a 
veritable  stampede — a  strife  for  possession  of  the  road, 
to  see  who  should  get  ahead.  Whole  trains  (often  with 
bad  blood)  would  strive  for  the  mastery  of  the  road,  one 
attempting  to  pass  the  other,  frequently  with  drivers  on 
each  side  the  team  to  urge  the  poor,  suffering  dumb 
brutes  forward. 

"What  shall  we  do?"  passed  from  one  to  another 
in  our  little  family  council. 

"Now,  fellers,"  said  McAuley,  "don't  lose  your 
heads,  but  do  just  as  you  have  been  doing;  you  gals,  just 
make  your  bread  as  light  as  ever,  and  we'll  boil  the  water 
and  take  river  water  the  same  as  ever,  even  if  it  is  almost 
as  thick  as  mud." 

We  had  all  along  refused  to  "dig  little  wells  near 
the  banks  of  the  Platte,"  as  many  other  did,  having  soon 
learned  that  the  water  obtained  was  strongly  charged 
with  alkali,  while  the  river  water  was  comparatively  pure, 
other  than  the  fine  impalpable  sediment,  so  fine  as  to 
seemingly  be  held  in  solution. 

"Keep  cool,"  he  continued;  "maybe  we'll  have  to 
lay  down,  and  maybe  not.  Anyway,  it's  no  use  frettin'. 
What's  to  be  will  be,  'specially  if  we  but  help  things 
along." 

This  homely  yet  wise  counsel  fell  upon  willing  ears, 
as  most  all  were  already  of  the  same  mind ;  and  we  did 
"just  as  we  had  been  doing,"  and  escaped  unharmed. 


64  VENTURES   AND  ADVENTURES   OP  EZRA  MEEKER 

I  look  back  on  that  party  of  nine  men  and  three 
women  (and  a  baby),  with  four  wagons,  with  feelings 
almost  akin  to  reverence. 

Thomas  McAuley  became  by  natural  selection  the 
leader  of  the  party,  although  no  agreement  of  the  kind 
was  ever  made.  He  was,  next  to  his  maiden  sister,  the 
oldest  of  the  party,  a  most  fearless  man,  who  never  lost 
his  head,  whatever  the  emergency,  and  I  have  been  in 
some  pretty  tight  places  with  him.  While  he  was  the 
oldest,  I  was  the  youngest  of  the  men  folks  of  the  party, 
and  the  only  married  man  of  the  lot,  and  if  I  do  have  to 
say  it,  the  strongest  and  ablest  to  bear  the  brunt  of  the 
work  (pardon  me,  reader,  when  I  add,  and  willing  ac- 
cording to  my  strength,  for  it  is  true),  and  so  we  got 
along  well  together  until  the  parting  of  the  way  came. 
This  spirit,  though,  pervaded  the  whole  camp  both  with 
the  men  and  women  folks  to  the  end.  Thomas  McAuley 
still  lives,  at  Hobart  Hills,  California,  or  did  a  few  years 
ago  when  I  last  heard  from  him,  a  respected  citizen.  He 
has  long  since  passed  the  eighty-year  mark,  and  has  not 
"laid  down"  yet. 

Did  space  but  permit  I  would  like  to  tell  more  in 
detail  of  the  members  of  that  little  happy  party  (family 
we  called  ourselves)  camped  near  the  bank  of  the  Platte 
when  the  fury  of  that  great  epidemic — cholera — burst 
upon  us,  but  I  can  only  make  brief  mention.  William 
Buck — one  of  Nature's  noblemen — has  long  ago  "laid 
down."  Always  scrupulously  neat  and  cleanly,  always 
ready  to  cater  to  the  wants  of  his  companions  and  as 
honest  as  the  day  is  long,  he  has  ever  held  a  tender  place 
in  my  heart.  It  was  Buck  that  selected  our  nice  little 
outfit,  complete  in  every  part,  so  that  we  did  not  throw 


OUT  ON  THE  PLAINS  55 

away  a  pound  of  provisions  nor  need  to  purchase  any. 
The  water  can  was  in  the  wagon,  of  sufficient  capacity  to 
supply  our  wants  for  a  day,  and  a  "sup"  for  the  oxen 
and  cows  besides.  The  milk  can  in  the  wagon  always 
yielded  its  lump  of  butter  at  night,  churned  by  the  move- 
ment of  the  wagon  from  the  surplus  morning's  milk. 
The  yeast  cake  so  thoughtfully  provided  by  the  little  wife 
ever  brought  forth  sweet,  light  bread  baked  in  that  tin 
reflector  before  the  "chip"  (buffalo)  fire.  That  reflector 
and  those  yeast  cakes  were  a  great  factor  conducive  to 
our  health.  Small  things,  to  be  sure,  but  great  as  to 
results.  Instead  of  saleratus  biscuit,  bacon  and  beans, 
we  had  the  light  bread  and  fruit,  with  fresh  meats  and 
rice  pudding,  far  out  on  the  Plains,  until  our  supply  of 
eggs  became  exhausted. 

Of  the  remainder  of  the  party,  brother  Oliver  "laid 
down"  forty-nine  years  ago,  but  his  memory  is  still 
green  in  the  hearts  of  all  who  knew  him.  Margaret 
McAuley  died  a  few  years  after  reaching  California.  Like 
her  brother,  she  was  resolute  and  resourceful,  and  almost 
like  a  mother  to  the  younger  sister  and  the  young  wife 
and  baby.  And  such  a  baby !  If  one  were  to  judge  by 
the  actions  of  all  the  members  of  that  camp,  the  conclusion 
would  be  reached  there  was  no  other  baby  on  earth.  All 
seemed  rejoiced  to  know  there  was  a  baby  in  camp ;  young 
(only  seven  weeks  old  when  we  started)  but  strong  and 
grew  apace  as  the  higher  altitude  was  reached. 

Eliza,  the  younger  sister,  a  type  of  the  healthy,  hand- 
some American  girl,  graceful  and  modest,  became  the 
center  of  attraction  upon  which  a  romance  might  be  writ- 
ten, but  as  the  good  elderly  lady  still  lives,  the  time  has 
not  yet  come,  and  so  we  must  draw  the  veil. 


56    VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

Of  the  two  Davenport  brothers,  Jacob,  the  youngest, 
became  ill  at  Soda  Springs,  was  confined  to  the  wagon  for 
more  than  seven  hundred  miles  down  Snake  River  in 
that  intolerable  dust,  and  finally  died  soon  after  we  ar- 
rived in  Portland. 

John,  the  elder  brother,  always  fretful,  but  willing 
to  do  his  part,  has  passed  out  of  my  knowledge.  Both 
came  of  respected  parents  on  an  adjoining  farm  to  that 
of  my  own  home  near  Indianapolis,  but  I  have  lost  all 
trace  of  them. 

Perhaps  the  general  reader  may  not  take  even  a  pass- 
ing interest  in  this  little  party  (family)  here  described.  I 
can  only  say  that  this  was  typical  of  many  on  the  Trail 
of  '52.  The  McAuleys  or  Buck  and  others  of  our  party 
could  be  duplicated  in  larger  or  smaller  parties  all  along 
the  line.  There  were  hundreds  of  noble  men  trudging 
up  the  Platte  at  that  time  in  an  army  over  five  hundred 
miles  long,  many  of  whom  "laid  down,"  a  sacrifice  to 
their  duty,  or  maybe  to  inherent  weakness  of  their  system. 
While  it  is  true  such  an  experience  brings  out  the  worst 
features  of  individual  characters,  yet  it  is  also  true  that 
the  shining  virtues  come  to  the  front  likewise ;  like  pure 
gold,  they  are  found  where  least  expected. 

Of  the  fortitude  of  the  women  one  cannot  say  too 
much.  Embarrassed  at  the  start  by  the  follies  of  fashion 
(and  long  dresses  which  were  quickly  discarded  and  the 
bloomer  donned),  they  soon  rose  to  the  occasion  and  cast 
false  modesty  aside.  Could  we  but  have  had  the  camera 
(of  course  not  then  in  existence)  trained  on  one  of  those 
typical  camps,  what  a  picture  there  would  be.  Elderly 
matrons  dressed  almost  like  the  little  sprite  miss  of  tender 
years  of  today.     The  younger  women  were  rather  shy  of 


OUT  OX  THE  PLAINS  57 

accepting  the  inevitable,,  but  finally  fell  into  the  pro- 
cession, and  we  had  a  community  of  women  wearing 
bloomers  without  invidious  comment,  or,  in  fact,  any 
comment  at  all.  Some  of  them  went  bare-foot,  partly 
from  choice  and  in  some  cases  from  necessity.  The  same 
could  be  said  of  the  men,  as  shoe  leather  began  to  grind 
out  from  the  sand  and  dry  heat.  Of  all  the  fantastic 
costumes  it  is  safe  to  say  the  like  was  never,  seen  before. 
The  scene  beggars  description.  Patches  became  visible 
upon  the  clothing  of  preachers  as  well  as  laymen;  the 
situations  brooked  no  respecter  of  persons.  The  grand- 
mother's cap  was  soon  displaced  by  a  handkerchief  or 
perhaps  a  bit  of  cloth.  Grandfather's  high  crowned  hat 
disappeared  as  if  by  magic.  Hatless  and  bootless  men 
became  a  common  sight.  Bonnetless  women  were  to  be 
seen  on  all  sides.  They  wore  what  they  had  left  or  could 
get,  without  question  as  to  the  fitness  of  things.  Rich 
dresses  were  worn  by  some  ladies  because  they  had  no 
others ;  the  gentlemen  drew  upon  their  wardrobes  until 
scarcely  a  fine  unsoiled  suit  was  left. 

The  dust  has  been  spoken  of  as  intolerable.  The  word 
hardly  expresses  the  situation ;  in  fact,  the  English  lan- 
guage contains  no  words  to  properly  express  it.  Here 
was  a  moving  mass  of  humanity  and  dumb  brutes,  at 
times  mixed  in  extricable  confusion,  a  hundred  feet  wide 
or  more.  Sometimes  two  columns  of  wagons  traveling  on 
parallel  lines  and  near  each  other  would  serve  as  a  barrier 
to  prevent  loose  stock  from  crossing;  but  usually  there 
would  be  a  confused  mass  of  cows,  young  cattle,  horses, 
and  footmen  moving  along  the  outskirts.  Here  and 
there  would  be  the  drivers  of  loose  stock,  some  on  foot 
and   some   on  horseback; — a  young   girl,    maybe,   riding 


58  VENTURES   AND  ADVENTURES   OP  EZRA  MEEKER 

astride,  with  a  younger  child  behind,  going  here  and 
there  after  an  intractible  cow,  while  the  mother  could  be 
seen  in  the  confusion  lending  a  helping  hand.  As  in  a 
thronged  city  street,  no  one  seemed  to  look  to  the  right 
or  to  the  left,  or  to  pay  much,  if  any,  attention  to  others, 
but  bent  alone  on  accomplishing  the  task  in  hand.  Over 
all,  in  calm  weather  at  times,  the  dust  would  settle  so 
thick  that  the  lead  team  of  oxen  could  not  be  seen  from 
the  wagon — like  a  London  fog,  so  thick  one  might  almost 
cut  it.*  Then,  again,  that  steady  flow  of  wind  up  to  and 
through  the  South  Pass  would  hurl  the  dust  and  sand  in 
one's  face  sometimes  with  force  enough  to  sting  from  the 
impact  upon  the  face  and  hands. 

Then  we  had  storms  that  were  not  of  sand  and  wind 
alone ; — storms  that  only  a  Platte  Valley  in  summer  or  a 
Puget  Sound  winter  might  turn  out; — storms  that  would 
wet  one  to  the  skin  in  less  time  than  it  takes  to  write 
this  sentence.  One  such  I  remember  being  caught  in 
while  out  on  watch.  The  cattle  traveled  so  fast  it  was 
difficult  to  keep  up  with  them.  I  could  do  nothing  else 
than  follow,  as  it  would  have  been  as  impossible  to  turn 
them  as  it  would  to  change  the  direction  of  the  wind.  I 
have  always  thought  of  this  as  a  cloudburst.  Anyway, 
there  was  not  a  dry  thread  left  on  me  in  an  incredibly 
short  time.  My  boots  were  as  full  of  water  as  if  I  had 
been  wading  over  boot-top  deep,  and  the  water  ran 
through  my  hat  as  though  it  was  a  sieve,  almost  blinding 
me  in  the  fury  of  wind  and  water.     Many  tents  were 

*The  author  spent  four  winters  in  London  on  the  world's  hop 
market,  and  perhaps  has  a  more  vivid  recollection  of  what  is  meant 
by  a  London  fog  than  would  be  understood  by  the  general  reader. 
I  have  seen  the  fog  and  smoke  there  so  black  that  one  could  not 
see  his  hand  held  at  arm's  length,  and  it  reminded  me  of  soma 
scenes   in  the   dust   on   the   Plains. 


OUT  ON  THE  PLAINS  59 

leveled,  and,  in  fact,  such  occurrences  as  fallen  tents  were 
not  uncommon. 

One  of  our  neighboring  trains  suffered  no  inconsider- 
able loss  by  the  sheets  of  water  on  the  ground,  floating 
their  camp  equipage,  ox  yokes,  and  all  loose  articles 
away;  and  they  only  narrowly  escaped  having  a  wagon 
engulfed  in  the  raging  torrent  that  came  so  unexpectedly 
upon  them.  Such  were  some  of  the  discomforts  on  the 
Plains  in  '52. 


60  VENTURES   AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

CHAPTER  VI. 

OUT  ON  THE  PLAINS. 

As  soon  as  a  part  of  our  outfits  were  landed  on  the 
right  bank  of  the  river  our  trouble  with  the  Indians 
began,  not  in  open  hostilities,  but  in  robbery  under  the 
guise  of  beggary.  The  word  had  been  passed  around  in 
our  little  party  that  not  one  cent's  worth  of  provisions 
would  we  give  up  to  the  Indians, — believing  this  policy 
was  our  only  safeguard  from  spoliation,  and  in  that  we 
were  right.  The  women  folks  had  been  taken  over  the 
river  with  the  first  wagon,  and  sent  off  a  little  way  to  a 
convenient  camp,  so  that  the  first  show  of  arms  came 
from  that  side  of  our  little  community,  when  some  of  the 
bolder  Pawnees  attempted  to  pilfer  around  the  wagons. 
But  no  blood  was  shed,  and  I  may  say  in  passing  there 
was  none  shed  by  any  of  our  party  during  the  entire 
trip,  though  there  was  a  show  of  arms  in  several  instances. 
One  case  in  particular  I  remember.  Soon  after  we  had 
left  the  Missouri  river  we  came  to  a  small  bridge  over  a 
washout  across  the  road,  evidently  constructed  very  re- 
cently by  some  train  just  ahead  of  us.  The  Indians  had 
taken  possession  and  demanded  pay  for  crossing.  Some 
ahead  of  us  had  paid,  while  others  were  hesitating,  but 
with  a  few  there  was  a  determined  resolution  not  to  pay. 
When  our  party  came  up  it  remained  for  that  fearless 
man,  McAuley,  in  quite  short  order  to  clear  the  way 
though  the  Indians  were  there  in  considerable  numbers. 
McAuley  said,  "You  fellers  come  right  on,  for  I'm  going 
across  that  bridge  if  I  have  to  run  right  over  that  Ingen 
settin'  there."     And  he  did  almost  run  over  the  Indian, 


OUT  ON  THE  PLAINS  61 

who  at  the  last  moment  got  out  of  the  way  of  his  team, 
which  was  followed  in  such  quick  succession  and  with 
such  a  show  of  arms  that  the  Indians  withdrew,  and 
left  the  road  unobstructed. 

In  another  instance,  I  eame  very  near  getting  into 
serious  trouble  with  three  Indians  on  horseback.  We 
had  hauled  off  away  from  the  road  to  get  water,  I  think, 
and  became  separated  from  the  passing  throng,  and  al- 
most, but  not  qnite  out  of  sight  of  any  wagons  or  camps. 
The  Indians  came  up  ostensibly  to  beg,  but  really  to  rob, 
and  first  began  to  solicit,  and  afterwards  to  threaten. 
I  started  to  drive  on,  not  thinking  they  would  use  actual 
violence,  as  there  were  other  emigrants  certainly  within 
a  half  mile,  and  thought  they  were  merely  trying  to 
frighten  me  into  giving  up  at  least  a  part  of  my  outfit. 
Finally  one  of  the  Indians  whipped  out  his  knife  and 
cut  loose  the  cow  that  I  was  leading  behind  the  wagon. 
I  did  not  have  to  ask  for  my  gun,  as  my  wife  in  the 
wagon,  who  had  seen  the  act,  believed,  as  I  did,  that  the 
time  had  come  to  fight,  and  handed  me  my  trusty  rifle 
out  under  the  cover,  and  before  the  savages  had  time 
to  do  anything  farther  they  saw  the  gun.  They  were 
near  enough  to  make  it  certain  that  one  shot  would  take 
deadly  effect,  but  instead  of  shooting  one,  I  trained  the 
gun  in  the  direction  so  I  might  quickly  choose  between 
the  three,  and  in  an  instant  each  Indian  was  under  cover 
on  his  horse,  and  speeding  away  in  great  haste.  The  old 
story  that  "almost  anyone  will  fight  when  cornered" 
was  exemplified  in  this  incident,  but  I  did  not  want  any 
more  such  experiences  and  consequently  thereafter  be- 
came more  careful. 

"We  did  not,  however,  have  much  trouble  with  the 


G^  VENTURES   AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

Indians  in  1852.  The  facts  are,  the  great  numbers  of 
emigrants,  coupled  with  the  superiority  of  their  arms 
placed  them  on  comparatively  safe  grounds.  And  it  must 
he  remembered,  also,  that  this  was  before  the  treaty- 
ma  king  period,  which  has  so  often  been  followed  by 
bloodshed  and  war. 

But  to  return  to  the  river  bank.  We  crossed  on  the 
17th  and  18th  of  May,  and  drove  out  a  short  way  on  the 
19th,  but  not  far  enough  to  be  out  of  hearing  of  a  shrill 
steamboat  whistle  that  resounded  over  the  prairie,  an- 
nouncing the  arrival  of  a  steamer. 

I  never  knew  the  size  of  that  steamer,  or  the  name, 
but  only  know  that  a  dozen  or  more  wagons  could  be 
crossed  at  once,  and  that  a  dozen  or  more  trips  could 
be  made  during  the  day,  and  as  many  more  at  night, 
and  that  we  were  overtaken  by  this  throng  of  a  thousand 
wagons  thrown  upon  the  road,  that  gave  us  some  trouble 
and  much  discomfort. 

And  now  that  we  were  fairly  on  the  way  the  whole 
atmosphere,  so  to  speak,  seemed  changed.  Instead  of  the 
discordant  violin  and  more  discordant  voices,  with  the 
fantastic  night  open  air  dances  with  mother  earth  as  a 
floor,  there  soon  prevailed  a  more  sober  mein,  even  among 
the  young  people,  as  they  began  to  encounter  the  fatigue 
of  a  day's  drive  and  the  cares  of  a  night  watch.  With 
so  many,  the  watchword  was  to  push  ahead  and  make  as 
big  a  day's  drive  as  possible:  hence  it  is  not  to  be  won- 
dered at  that  nearly  the  whole  of  the  thousand  wagons 
that  crossed  the  river  after  we  did  soon  passed  us. 

"Now,  fellers,  jist  let  'em  rush  on,  and  keep  cool, 
we'll  overcatch  them  afore  long,"  said  McAuley.  And 
Ave  did,  and  passed  many  a  broken-down  team,  the  result 


OUT  OX  THE  PLAINS  83 

of  that  first  few  days  of  rush.  It  was  this  class  that  un- 
loaded such  piles  of  provisions,  noted  elsewhere,  in  the 
first  two  hundred  mile  stretch,  and  that  fell  such  easy 
prey  to  the  ravages  of  the  epidemic  of  cholera  that  struck 
the  moving  column  where  the  throng  from  the  south  side 
of  the  Platte  began  crossing.  As  I  recollect  this,  it  must 
have  been  near  where  the  city  of  Kearney  now  stands, 
which  is  about  two  hundred  miles  west  of  the  Missouri 
River.  We  had  been  in  the  buffalo  country  several  days, 
and  some  of  our  young  men  had  had  the  keen  edge  of 
the  hunting  zeal  worn  off  by  a  day's  ride  in  the  heat. 
A  number  of  them  were  sick  from  the  effects  of  over- 
heating and  indiscreet  drinking  of  impure  water.  Such 
an  experience  came  vividly  home  to  me  in  the  case  of 
my  brother  Oliver,  who  had  outfitted  with  our  Hoosier 
friends  near  Indianapolis,  but.  had  crossed  the  Missouri 
river  in  company  with  us.  Being  of  an  adventurous  spirit, 
he  could  not  restrain  his.  ardor,  and  gave  chase  to  the 
buffaloes,  and  fell  sick  almost  unto  death.  This  occurred 
just  at  the  time  when  we  had  encountered  the  cholera 
panic,  and  of  course  it  must  be  the  cholera  that  had 
seized  him  with  such  an  iron  grip,  argued  some  of  his 
companions.  His  old-time  comrades  and  neighbors,  all 
but  two,  said  they  could  not  delay.  I  said,  "It's  certain 
death  to  take  him  along  in  that  condition."  which  they 
admitted  was  true.  "Divide  the  outfit,  then."  The  Dav- 
enport boys  said  they  would  not  leave  my  brother,  and  so 
their  portion  of  the  outfit  was  put  out  also,  which  gave 
the  three  a  wagon  and  team.  Turning  to  Buck.  I  said,  "I 
can't  ask  you  to  stay  with  me."  The  answer  came  back 
quick  as  a  flash,  "I  am  going  to  stay  with  you  without 
asking,"  and  he  did,  too,  though  my  brother  was  almost 


61    VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES  OP  EZRA  MEEKER 

a  total  stranger.  We  nursed  the  sick  man  for  four  days 
amidst  scenes  of  excitement  and  death  I  hope  never  to 
witness  again,  with  the  result  that  on  the  fifth  day  we 
were  able  to  go  on  and  take  the  convalescent  with  us  and 
thus  saved  his  life.  It  was  at  this  point  the  sixteen  hun- 
dred wagons  passed  us  as  noted  elsewhere  in  the  four 
days'  detention,  and  loose  stock  so  numerous,  we  made 
no  attempt  to  count  them. 

Of  course,  this  incident  is  of  no  particular  impor- 
tance, except  to  illustrate  what  life  meant  in  those  stren- 
uous days.  The  experience  of  that  camj,,  was  the  ex- 
perience, I  may  say,  of  hundreds  of  others:  of  friends 
parting;  of  desertion;  of  noble  sacrifice;  of  the  revelation 
of  the  best  and  worst  of  the  inner  man.  Like  the  shifting 
clouds  of  a  brightening  summer  day,  the  trains  seemed 
to  dissolve  and  disappear,  while  no  one,  apparently,  knew 
what  had  become  of  their  component  parts,  or  whither 
they  had  gone. 

There  did  seem  instances  that  would  convert  the  most 
skeptical  to  the  Presbyterian  doctrine  of  total  depravity, 
so  brutal  and  selfish  were  the  actions  of  some  men;  brutal 
to  men  and  women  alike;  to  dumb  brutes,  and  in  fact  to 
themselves.  And,  yet,  it  is  a  pleasure  to  record  that  there 
were  numerous  instances  of  noble  self-sacrifice,  of  help- 
fulness, of  unselfishness,  to  the  point  of  imperiling  their 
own  lives.  It  became  a  common  saying  to  know  one's 
neighbors,  they  must  be  seen  on  the  plains. 

The  army  of  loose  stock  that  accompanied  this  huge 
caravan,  a  column,  we  may  almost  say,  of  five  hundred 
miles  long  without  break,  added  greatly  to  the  discom- 
fort of  all.  Of  course,  the  number  of  cattle  and  horses 
will  never  be  known,  but  their  number  was  legion  com- 


OUT  ON  THE  PLAINS  65 

pared  to  those  that  labored  under  the  yoke,  or  in  the 
harness.  A  conservative  estimate  would  be  not  less  than 
six  animals  to  the  wagon,  and  surely  there  were  three 
loose  animals  to  each  one  in  the  teams.  By  this  it  would 
appear  that  as  sixteen  hundred  wagons  passed  while 
we  tarried  four  days,  nearly  ten  thousand  beasts  of  bur- 
den and  thirty  thousand  loose  stock  accompanied  them. 
As  to  the  number  of  persons,  certainly  there  were  five  to 
the  wagon,  perhaps  more,  but  calling  it  five,  eight  thou- 
sand people,  men,  women  and  children,  passed  on  during 
those  four  days — many  to  their  graves  not  afar  off. 

We  know  by  the  inscribed  dates  found  on  Independ- 
ence Rock  and  elsewhere  that  there  were  wagons  full 
three  hundred  miles  ahead  of  us.  The  throng  had 
continued  to  pass  the  river  more  than  a  month  after 
we  had  crossed,  so  that  it  does  not  require  a  stretch  of 
the  imagination  to  say  the  column  was  five  hundred 
miles  long,  and  like  Sherman's  march  through  Georgia, 
fifty  thousand  strong. 

Of  the  casualities  in  that  mighty  army  I  scarcely 
dare  guess.  It  is  certain  that  history  gives  no  record 
of  such  great  numbers  migrating  so  long  a  distance  as 
that  of  the  Pioneers  of  the  Plains,  where,  as  we  have 
seen,  the  dead  lay  in  rows  of  fifties  and  groups  of  sev- 
enties. Shall  we  say  ten  per  cent  fell  by  the  wayside? 
Many  will  exclaim  that  estimate  is  too  low.  Ten  per 
cent  would  give  us  five  thousand  sacrifices  of  lives  laid 
down  even  in  one  year  to  aid  in  the  peopling  of  the 
Pacific  Coast  states.  The  roll  call  was  never  made,  and 
we  know  not  how  many  there  were.  The  list  of  mortali- 
ties is  unknown,  and  so  we  are  lost  in  conjecture,  and 


66    VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES  OP  EZRA  MEEKER  ■ 

now  we  only  know  that  the  unknown  and  unmarked 
graves  have  gone  into  oblivion. 

Volumes  could  be  written  of  life  on  the  Plains  and 
yet  leave  the  story  not  half  told.  In  some  matter  before 
me  I  read,  "found  a  family,  consisting  of  husband,  wife 
and  four  small  children,  whose  cattle  we  supposed  had 
given  out  and  died.     They  were  here  all  alone,  and  no 

wagon  or  cattle  in  sight" had  been  thrown  out  by 

the  owner  of  a  wagon  and  left  on  the  road  to  die.  In 
a  nearby  page  I  read,  "Here  we  met  Mr.  Lot  Whitcom, 
direct  from  Oregon — .  Told  me  a  great  deal  about  Ore- 
gon. He  has  provisions,  but  none  to  sell,  but  gives  to 
all  he  finds  in  want,  and  who  are  unable  to  buy."  These 
stories  of  the  good  Samaritan,  and  the  fiendish  actions 
of  others  could  be  multiplied  indefinitely,  but  I  quote 
only  extracts  from  these  two,  written  on  the  spot,  that 
well  illustrates  the  whole. 

Mrs.  Cecelia  Emily  McMillen  Adams,  late  of  Hills- 
boro,  Oregon,  crossed  the  Plains  in  1852,  and  kept  a  pains- 
taking daily  diary,  and  noted  the  graves  passed,  and 
counted  them.  Her  diary  is  published  in  full  by  the  Ore- 
gon Pioneer  Association.  1904.  I  note  the  following : 
"June  fourteenth.  Passed  seven  new  made  graves.  June 
15th.  Sick  headache,  not  able  to  sit  up.  June  16th. 
Passed  11  new  graves.  June  17th.  Passed  six  new  graves. 
June  18th.  We  have  passed  twenty-one  new  made  graves 
today.  June  19th.  Passed  thirteen  graves  today.  June 
20th.  Passed  ten  graves.  June  21st.  No  report.  June 
22nd.  Passed  seven  graves.  If  we  should  go  by  all  the 
camping  grounds,  we  should  see  five  times  as  many  graves 
as  we  do." 

This  report  of  seventy-five  dead  in   106  miles,  and 


OUT    OX    THE    PLAINS  67 

that  "if  Ave  should  go  by  all  the  camping  grounds  we 
should  see  five  times  as  many  graves  as  we  do"  coupled 
with  the  fact  that  a  parallel  column  from  which  we  have 
no  report  was  traveling  up  the  Platte  on  the  south  side 
of  the  river,  and  that  the  outbreak  of  the  cholera  had 
taken  place  originally  in  this  column  coming  from  the 
southeast,  fully  confirms  the  estimate  of  5,000  deaths  on 
the  Plains  in  1852.  It  is  in  fact  rather  under  than  over 
the  actual  number  who  laid  down  their  lives  that  year. 
I  have  mislaid  the  authority,  but  at  the  time  I  read  it, 
believed  the  account  to  be  true,  of  a  scout  that  passed 
over  the  ground  late  that  year  (1852)  from  the  Loop  Fork 
of  the  Platte  to  the  Laramie,  a  distance  approximating 
400  miles,  that  by  actual  count  in  great  part  and  conser- 
vative estimate  of  the  remainder,  there  were  six  fresh 
graves  to  the  mile  for  the  whole  distance — this,  it  is  to 
be  remembered,  on  the  one  side  of  the  river  in  a  stretch 
where  for  half  the  distance  of  a  parallel  column  travel- 
ing on  the  opposite  bank,  where  like  conditions  prevailed. 
A  few  more  instances  must  suffice  to  complete  this 
chapter  of  horrors. 

L.  B.  Rowland,  now  of  Eugene,  Oregon,  recently  told 
me  the  experience  of  his  train  of  twenty-three  persons, 
between  the  two  crossings  of  the  Snake  River,  of  which 
we  have  just  written.  Of  the  twenty-three  that  crossed, 
eleven  died  before  they  reached  the  lower  crossing. 

Mrs.  M.  E.  Jones,  now  of  North  Yakima,  states  that 
forty  people  of  their  train  died  in  one  day  and  two  nights, 
before  reaching  the  crossing  of  the  Platte.  Martin  Cook, 
of  Newberg,  Oregon,  is  my  authority  for  the  following : 
A  family  of  seven  persons,  the  father  known  as  "Dad 
Friels,"  from  Hartford,  Warren  County,  Iowa,  all  died 


68  VENTURES   AND  ADVENTURES   OF   EZRA  MEEKER 

of  cholera  and  were  buried  in  one  grave.  He  could  not 
tell  me  the  locality  nor  the  exact  date,  but  it  would  be 
useless  to  search  for  the  graves,  as  all  have  long  ago 
been  leveled  by  the  passing  hoofs  of  the  buffalo  or  do- 
mestic stock,  or  met  the  fate  of  hundreds  of  shallow 
graves,  having  been  desecrated  by  hungry  wolves. 

A  pathetic  thought  came  uppermost  in  the  minds  of 
the  emigrants  as  the  fact  dawned  upon  them  that  all 
the  graves  were  fresh  made,  and  that  those  of  previous 
years  had  disappeared — either  leveled  by  the  storms  of 
wind  or  rain ;  by  the  hoofs  of  the  passing  throng  of 
stock ;  or  possibly  by  ravages  of  the  hungry  wolf.  Many 
believed  the  Indians  had  robbed  the  graves  for  the  cloth- 
ing on  the  bodies.  Whatever  the  cause,  the  fact  was 
realized  that  the  graves  of  previous  years  were  all,  or 
nearly  all  gone,  and  that  the  same  fate  awaited  the  last 
resting  place  of  those  loved  ones  laid  away  in  such  great 
numbers. 

One  of  the  incidents  that  made  a  profound  impres- 
sion upon  the  minds  of  all ;  the  meeting  of  eleven  wagons 
returning  and  not  a  man  left  in  the  entire  train; — all 
had  died,  and  had  been  buried  on  the  way,  and  the  women 
were  returning  alone  from  a  point  well  up  on  the  Platte 
below  Fort  Laramie.  The  difficulties  of  a  return  trip 
were  multiplied  on  account  of  the  passing  throng  moving 
westward.  How  they  succeeded,  or  what  became  of  them 
I  never  knew,  but  we  did  know  a  terrible  task  lay  before 
them. 

As  the  column  passed  up  the  Platte,  there  came  some 
relief  for  awhile  from  the  dust  and  a  visible  thinning  out 
of  the  throng;  some  had  pushed  on  and  gotten  out  of  the 
way  of  the  congested  district,  while  others  had  lagged 


OUT  ON  THE  PLAINS  G9 

behind ;  and  then  it  was  patent  that  the  missing  dead 
left  not  only  a  void  in  the  hearts  of  their  comrades,  but 
also  a  visible  space  upon  the  road,  while  their  absence 
cast  a  gloom  over  many  an  aching  heart. 

As  we  gradually  ascended  the  Sweetwater,  the  nights 
became  cooler,  and  finally,  the  summit  reached,  life  be- 
came more  tolerable  and  suffering  less  acute.  The  sum- 
mit of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  through  the  South  Pass 
presents  a  wide,  open  undulating  country  that  extends 
for  a  long  distance  at  a  very  high  altitude — probably 
6,000  feet  above  sea  level,  until  Bear  River  is  reached, 
a  distance  of  over  150  miles.  This  is  a  region  of  scant 
herbage  and  almost  destitute  of  water,  except  at  river 
crossings,  for  on  this  stretch  of  the  Trail,  the  way  leads 
across  the  water  courses,  and  not  with  them. 

The  most  attractive  natural  phenomena  encountered 
on  the  whole  trip  are  the  soda  springs  near  the  Bear 
River,  and  in  fact  right  in  the  bed  of  the  river.  One  of 
these,  the  Steam-boat  spring,  was  spouting  at  regular  in- 
tervals as  we  passed.  These  have,  however,  ceased  to  over- 
flow as  in  1852,  as  I  learned  on  my  recent  trip. 

When  the  Snake  River  was  reached  and  in  fact  be- 
fore, the  heat  again  became  oppressive,  the  dust  stifling. 
and  thirst  at  times  almost  maddening.  In  some  places 
we  could  see  the  water  of  the  Snake,  but  could  not  reach 
it  as  the  river  ran  in  the  inaccessible  depths  of  the  can- 
yon. Sickness  again  became  prevalent,  and  another  out- 
break of  cholera  claimed  many  victims. 

There  were  but  few  ferries  and  none  in  many  places 
where  crossings  were  to  be  made,  and  where  here  and 
there  a  ferry  was  found  the  charges  were  high — or  per- 
haps the  word  should  be,  exorbitant — and  out  of  reach 


70  VENTURES   AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

of  a  large  majority  of  the  emigrants.  In  my  own  case, 
all  my  funds  had  been  absorbed  in  procuring  my  outfit 
at  Eddyville,  Iowa,  not  dreaming  there  would  be  use  for 
money  "on  the  Plains"  where  there  were  neither  sup- 
plies nor  people.  We  soon  found  out  our  mistake,  how- 
ever, and  sought  to  mend  matters  when  opportunity 
offered.  The  crossing  of  the  Snake  River,  though  late 
in  the  trip,  gave  the  opportunity. 

About  thirty  miles  below  Salmon  Falls  the  dilemma 
confronted  us  to  either  cross  the  river  or  starve  our 
teams  on  the  trip  down  the  river  on  the  south  bank. 

Some  emigrants  had  calked  three  wagon-beds  and 
lashed  them  together,  and  were  crossing,  but  would  not 
help  others  across  for  less  than  three  to  five  dollars  a 
wagon,  the  party  swimming  their  own  stock.  If  others 
could  cross  in  wagon-beds,  why  could  I  not  do  likewise? 
and  without  much  ado  all  the  old  clothing  that  could 
possibly  be  spared  was  marshaled,  tar  buckets  ransacked, 
old  chisels  and  broken  knives  hunted  up,  and  a  veri- 
table boat  repairing  and  calking  campaign  inaugurated, 
and  shortly  the  wagon-box  rode  placidly,  even  if  not 
gracefully  on  the  turbid  waters  of  the  formidable  river. 
It  had  been  my  fortune  to  be  the  strongest  physically 
of  any  of  our  little  party  of  four  men,  though  I  would 
cheerfully  accept  a  second  place  mentally. 

My  boyhood  pranks  of  playing  with  logs  or  old  leaky 
skiffs  in  the  waters  of  White  River  now  served  me  well, 
for  I  could  row  a  boat  even  if  I  had  never  taken  lessons 
as  an  athlete.  My  first  venture  across  the  Snake  River 
was  with  the  wagon  gear  run  over  the  wagon  box,  the 
whole  being  gradually  worked  out  into  deep  water.  The 
load  was  so  heavy  that  a  very  small  margin  was  left  to 


OUT  ON  THE  PLAINS  71 

prevent  the  water  from  breaking  over  the  sides,  and 
some  actually  did,  as  light  ripples  on  the  surface  struck 
the  "Mary  Jane,"  as  we  had  christened  (without  wine) 
the  "craft"  as  she  was  launched.  However,  I  got  over 
safely,  but  after  that  took  lighter  loads  and  really  en- 
joyed the  novelty  of  the  work  and  the  change  from  the 
intolerable  dust  to  the  atmosphere  of  the  water. 

Some  were  so  infatuated  with  the  idea  of  floating 
on  the  water  as  to  be  easily  persuaded  by  an  unprincipled 
trader  at  the  lower  crossing  to  dispose  of  their  teams 
for  a  song,  and  embark  in  their  wagon  beds  for  a  voyage 
down  the  river.  It  is  needless  to  say  that  these  persons 
(of  whom  there  were  a  goodly  number)  lost  everything 
they  had  and  some,  their  lives,  the  survivors,  after  in- 
credible hardships,  reaching  the  road  again  to  become 
objects  of  charity  while  separated  entirely  from  friends. 
I  knew  one  survivor,  who  yet  lives  in  our  state,  who  was 
out  seven  days  without  food  other  than  a  scant  supply 
of  berries  and  vegetable  growth,  and  "a  few  crickets, 
but  not  many,"  as  it  was  too  laborious  to  catch  them. 

We  had  no  trouble  to  cross  the  cattle,  although  the 
river  was  wide.  Dandy  would  do  almost  anything  I 
asked  of  him,  so,  leading  him  to  the  water's  edge,  with 
a  little  coaxing  I  got  him  into  swimming  water  and 
guided  him  across  with  the  wagon  bed,  while  the  others 
all  followed,  having  been  driven  into  the  deep  water 
following  the  leader.  It  seems  almost  incredible  how 
passively  obedient  cattle  will  become  after  long  training 
on  such  a  trip,  in  crossing  streams. 

We  had  not  finished  crossing  when  tempting  offers 
came  from  others  to  cross  them,  but  all  our  party  said 
"No,  we  must  travel."     The  rule  had  been  adopted  to 


72  VENTURES   AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

travel  some  every  day  possible.  "Travel,  travel,  travel," 
was  the  watchword,  and  nothing  could  divert  us  from 
that  resloution,  and  so  on  the  third  day  we  were  ready 
to  pull  out  from  the  river  with  the  cattle  rested  from  the 
enforced  detention. 

But  what  about  the  lower  crossing?  Those  who  had 
crossed  over  the  river  must  somehow  get  back.  It  was 
less  than  150  miles  to  where  we  were  again  to  cross  to 
the  south  side  (left  bank)  of  the  river.  I  could  walk 
that  in  three  days,  while  it  would  take  our  teams  ten. 
Could  I  go  on  ahead,  procure  a  wagon  box  and  start  a 
ferry  of  my  own?  The  thought  prompted  an  affirmative 
answer  at  once ;  so  with  a  little  food  and  a  small  blanket 
the  trip  to  the  lower  crossing  was  made.  It  may  be  ludi- 
crous, but  is  true,  that  the  most  I  remember  about  that 

trip  is  the  jackrabbits such  swarms  of  them  I  had 

never  seen  before  as  I  traveled  down  the  Boise  valley,  and 
never  expect  to  see  again. 

The  trip  was  made  in  safety,  but  conditions  were 
different.  At  the  lower  crossing,  as  I  have  already  said, 
some  were  disposing  of  their  teams  and  starting  to  float 
down  the  river;  some  were  fording,  a  perilous  undertak- 
ing, but  most  of  them  succeeded  who  tried,  and  besides 
a  trader  whose  name  I  have  forgotten  had  an  established 
ferry  near  the  old  fort  (Boise).  I  soon  obtained  a 
wagon-bed,  and  was  at  work  during  all  the  daylight 
hours  (no  eight-hour-a-day  there)  crossing  people  till  the 
teams  came  up,  (and  for  several  days  after),  and  left  the 
river  with  $110  in  my  pocket,  all  of  which  was  gone  be- 
fore I  arrived  in  Portland,  save  $2.75. 

I  did  not  look  upon  that  work  then  other  than  as 
a  part  of  the  trip,  to  do  the  best  we  could.     None  of  us 


OUT  OX  THE  PLAINS  73 

thought  we  were  doing  a  heroic  act  in  crossing  the  plains 
and  meeting  emergencies  as  they  arose.  In  fact,  we  did 
not  think  at  all  of  that  phase  of  the  question.  Many 
have,  however,  in  later  life  looked  upon  their  achieve- 
ments with  pardonable  pride,  and  some  in  a  vain-glorious 
mood  of  mind. 

A  very  pleasant  incident  recently  occurred  in  re- 
viving memories  of  this  episode  of  my  life,  while  visiting 
my  old  time  friend  Edward  J.  Allen,  mentioned  else- 
where in  this  work.  It  was  my  good  fortune  to  be  able 
to  spend  several  days  with  that  grand  "Old  Timer"  at 
his  residence  in  Pittsburg.  Pa.  We  had  not  met  for  fifty 
years.  The  reader  may  readily  believe  there  had  been 
great  changes  with  both  of  us  as  well  as  in  the  world 
at  large  in  that  half  century  of  our  lives.  My  friend 
had  crossed  the  plains  the  same  year  I  did,  and  although 
a  single  man  and  young  at  that,  had  kept  a  diary  all  the 
way.  Poring  over  this  venerable  manuscript  one  day 
while  I  was  with  him,  Mr.  Allen  ran  across  this  sentence, 
"The  Meeker  brothers  sold  out  their  interest  in  the  ferry 
today  for  $185.00,  and  left  for  Portland."  Both  had 
forgotten  the  partnership  though  each  remembered  their 
experience  of  the  ferrying  in  wagon-boxes. 

From  the  lower  crossing  of  the  Snake  River,  at  Old 
Port  Boise  to  The  Dalles  is  approximately  350  miles.  It 
became  a  serious  question  with  many  whether  there 
would  be  enough  provisions  left  to  keep  starvation  from 
the  door,  or  whether  the  teams  could  muster  strength  to 
take  the  wagons  in.  Many  wagons  were  left  by  the  way- 
side. Everything  possible  shared  the  same  fate;  provi- 
sions and  provisions  only  were  religiously  cared  for — in 
fact  starvation  stared  manv  in  the  face.     Added  to  the 


74  VENTURES   AND  ADVENTURES  OP  EZRA  MEEKER 

weakened  condition  of  both  man  and  beast  small  wonder 
if  some  thoughtless  persons  would  take  to  the  river  in 
their  wagon-beds,  many  to  their  death,  and  the  remain- 
ing to  greater  hardships. 

I  can  not  give  an  adequate  description  of  the  dust, 
which  seemed  to  get  deeper  and  more  impalpable  every- 
day. I  might  liken  the  wading  in  the  dust,  to  wading  in 
water  as  to  resistance.  Often  times  the  dust  would  lie  in 
the  road  full  six  inches  deep,  and  so  fine  that  one  wading 
through  it  would  scarcely  leave  a  track.  And  such  clouds, 
when  disturbed — no  words  can  describe  it. 

The   appearance   of  the   people   is   described   in   the 
chapter  following. 


FLOATING   DOWN    THE   RIVER  75 

CHAPTER  VII. 

FLOATING   DOWN    THE    RIVER. 

*0n  a  September  day  of  1852  an  assemblage  of  per- 
sons could  be  seen  encamped  on  the  banks  of  the  great 
Columbia,  at  The  Dalles,  now  a  city  of  no  small  pre- 
tensions, but  then  only  a  name  for  the  peculiar  config- 
uration of  country  adjacent  to  and  including  the  waters 
of  the  great  river. 

One  would  soon  discover  this  assemblage  was  con- 
stantly changing.  Every  few  hours  stragglers  came  in 
from  off  the  dusty  road,  begrimed  with  the  sweat  of  the 
brow  commingled  with  particles  of  dust  driven  through 
the  air,  sometimes  by  a  gentle  breeze  and  then  again  by 
a  violent  gale  sweeping  up  the  river  through  the  moun- 
tain gap  of  the  Cascade  Range.  A  motley  crowd  these 
people  were,  almost  cosmopolitan  in  nationality,  yet  all 
vestige  of  race  peculiarities  or  race  prejudice  ground 
away  in  the  mill  of  adversity  and  trials  common  to  all 
alike  in  common  danger.  And  yet,  the  dress  and  ap- 
pearance of  this  assemblage  were  as  varied  as  the  hu- 
man countenance  and  as  unique  as  the  great  mountain 
scenery  before  them.  Some  were  clad  in  scanty  attire 
as  soiled  with  the  dust  as  their  brows;  others,  while 
with  better  pretentions,  lacked  some  portions  of  dress 
required  in  civilized  life.  Here  a  matronly  dame  with 
clean  apparel  would  be  without  shoes,  or  there,  perhaps, 


*A    chapter    from    Pioneer    Reminiscences,    by    the    author,    pub- 
lished   1905. 


76  VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

the  husband  without  the  hat  or  perhaps  both  shoes  and 
hat  absent ;  there  the  youngsters  of  all  ages,  making  no 
pretensions  to  genteel  clothing  other  than  to  cover  their 
nakedness.  An  expert's  ingenuity  would  be  taxed  to  the 
utmost  to  discover  either  the  texture  or  original  color 
of  the  clothing  of  either  juvenile  or  adult,  so  prevailing 
was  the  patch  work  and  so  in  ground  the  particles  of  dust 
and  sand  from  off  the  plains. 

Some  of  these  people  were  buoyant  and  hopeful  in 
the  anticipation  of  meeting  friends  whom  they  knew 
were  awaiting  them  at  their  journey's  end,  while  others 
were  downcast  and  despondent  as  their  thoughts  went 
back  to  their  old  homes  left  behind,  and  the  struggle 
now  so  near  ended,  and  forward  to  the  (to  them)  un- 
known land  ahead.  Some  had  laid  friends  and  relatives 
tenderly  away  in  the  shifting  sands,  who  had  fallen  by 
the  wayside,  with  the  certain  knowledge  that  with  many 
the  spot  selected  by  them  would  not  be  the  last  resting 
place  for  the  bones  of  the  loved  ones.  The  hunger  of  the 
wolf  had  been  appeased  by  the  abundance  of  food  from 
the  fallen  cattle  that  lined  the  trail  for  a  thousand  miles 
or  more,  or  from  the  weakened  beasts  of  the  emigrants 
that  constantly  submitted  to  capture  by  the  relentless 
native  animals. 

The  story  of  the  trip  across  the  plains  in  1852  is  both 
interesting  and  pathetic,  but  I  have  planned  to  write 
of  life  after  the  journey  rather  than  much  about  the 
journey  itself;  of  the  trials  that  beset  the  people  after 
their  five  months'  struggle  on  the  tented  field  of  two 
thousand  miles  of  marching  were  ended,  where,  like  on 
the  very  battlefield,  the  dead  lay  in  rows  of  fifties  or 
more ;  where  the  trail  became  so  lined  with  fallen   ani- 


FLOATING   DOWN  THE  RIVER  •  77 

mals,  one  could  scarcely  be  out  of  sight  or  smell  of 
carrion ;  where  the  sick  had  no  respite  from  suffering, 
nor  the  well  from  fatigue.  But  this  oft  told  story  is  a 
subject  of  itself,  treated  briefly  to  the  end  we  may  have 
space  to  tell  what  happened  when  the  journey  was  ended. 

The  constant  gathering  on  the  bank  of  the  Columbia 
and  constant  departures  of  the  immigrants  did  not  ma- 
terially change  the  numbers  encamped,  nor  the  general 
appearance.  The  great  trip  had  moulded  this  army  of 
homeseekers  into  one  homogeneous  mass,  a  common 
brotherhood,  that  left  a  lasting  impression  upon  the  par- 
ticipants, and,  although  few  are  left  now,  not  one  but 
will  greet  an  old  comrade  as  a  brother  indeed,  and  in 
fact,  with  hearty  and  oftentimes  tearful  congratulations. 

We  camped  but  two  days  on  the  bank  of  the  river. 
When  I  say  we,  let  it  be  understood  that  I  mean  myself, 
my  young  wife,  and  the  little  baby  boy,  who  was  but 
seven  weeks  old  when  the  start  was  made  from  near 
Eddyville,  Iowa.  Both  were  sick,  the  mother  from  grad- 
ual exhaustion  during  the  trip  incident  to  motherhood, 
and  the  little  one  in  sympathy,  doubtless  drawn  from 
the  mother's  breast. 

Did  you  ever  think  of  the  wonderful  mystery  of  the 
inner  action  of  the  mind,  how  some  impressions  once 
made  seem  to  remain,  while  others  gradually  fade  away, 
like  the  twilight  of  a  summer  sunset,  until  finally  lost? 
And  then  how  seemingly  trivial  incidents  will  be  fast- 
ened upon  one's  memory  while  others  of  more  importance 
we  would  recall  if  we  could,  but  which  have  faded  for- 
ever from  our  grasp?  I  can  well  believe  all  readers 
have  had  this  experience,  and  so  will  be  prepared  to 
receive  with  leniencv  the  confession   of  an   elderly  gen- 


78    VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

tleman.  (I  will  not  say  old),  when  he  says  that  most 
of  the  incidents  are  forgotten  and  few  remembered.  I 
do  not  remember  the  embarking  on  the  great  scow  for 
the  float  down  the  river  to  the  Cascades,  but  vividly 
remember,  as  though  it  were  but  yesterday,  incidents 
of  the  voyage.  We  all  felt  (I  now  mean  the  immigrants 
who  took  passage)  that  now  our  journey  was  ended. 
The  cattle  had  been  unyoked  for  the  last  time.  The 
wagons  had  been  rolled  to  the  last  bivouac;  the  embers 
of  the  last  camp  fire  had  died  out;  the  last  word  of  gos- 
sip had  been  spoken,  and  now,  we  were  entering  a  new 
field  with  new  present  experience,  and  with  new  ex- 
pectancy for  the  morrow. 

The  scow  or  lighter  upon  which  we  took  passage  was 
decked  over,  but  without  railing,  a  simple,  smooth  sur- 
face upon  which  to  pile  our  belongings,  which,  in  the 
majority  of  cases  made  but  a  very  small  showing.  I 
think  there  must  have  been  a  dozen  families,  or  more, 
of  sixty  or  more  persons,  principally  women  and  chil- 
dren, as  the  young  men  (and  some  old  ones,  too)  were 
struggling  on  the  mountain  trail  to  get  the  teams  through 
to  the  west  side.  The  whole  deck  surface  of  the  scow 
was  covered  with  the  remnants  of  the  immigrants'  out- 
fits, which  in  turn  were  covered  by  the  oivners,  either 
sitting  or  reclining  upon  their  possessions,  leaving  but 
scant  room  to  change  position  or  move  about  in  any  way. 

Did  you  ever,  reader,  have  the  experience  when  some 
sorrow  overtook  you,  or  when  some  disappointment  had 
been  experienced,  or  when  deferred  hopes  had  not  been 
realized,  or  sometimes  even  without  these  and  from  some 
unknown,  subtle  cause,  feel  that  depression  of  spirits 
that  for  lack   of  a  better  name  we   call   "the  blues?" 


FLOATING  DOWN   THE  RIVER  79 

When  the  world  ahead  looked  dark;  when  hope  seemed 
extinguished  and  the  future  looked  like  a  blank?  Why 
do  I  ask  this  question?  I  know  you  all  to  a  greater  or 
less  degree  have  had  just  this  experience.  Can  you 
wonder  that  after  our  craft  had  been  turned  loose  upon 
the  waters  of  the  great  river,  and  begun  floating  lazily 
down  with  the  current,  that  such  a  feeling  as  that  de- 
scribed would  seize  us  as  with  an  iron  grip  ?  We  were 
like  an  army  that  had  burned  the  bridges  behind  them 
as  they  marched,  and  with  scant  knowledge  of  what  lay 
in  the  track  before  them.  Here  we  were,  more  than  two 
thousand  miles  from  home,  separated  by  a  trackless,  un- 
inhabited waste  of  country,  impossible  for  us  to  retrace 
our  steps.  Go  ahead  we  must,  no  matter  what  we  were 
to  encounter.  Then,  too,  the  system  had  been  strung  up 
for  months,  to  duties  that  could  not  be  avoided  or  de- 
layed, until  many  were  on  the  verge  of  collapse.  Some 
were  sick  and  all  reduced  in  flesh  from  the  urgent  call 
for  camp  duty,  and  lack  of  variety  of  food.  Such  were 
the  feelings  and  condition  of  the  motley  crowd  of  sixty 
persons  as  we  slowly  neared  that  wonderful  crevice 
through  which  the  great  river  flows  while  passing  the 
Cascade  mountain  range. 

For  myself,  I  can  truly  say,  that  the  trip  had  not 
drawn  on  my  vitality  as  I  saw  with  so  many.  True,  I 
had  been  worked  down  in  flesh,  having  lost  nearly  twenty 
pounds  on  the  trip,  but  what  weight  I  had  left  was  the 
bone  and  sinew  of  my  system,  that  served  me  so  well 
on  this  trip  and  has  been  my  comfort  in  other  walks  of 
life  at  a  later  period.  And  so,  if  asked,  did  you  exper- 
ience hardships  on  the  trip  across  the  plains,  I  could  not 
answer  ves  without   a   mental  reservation  that  it   might 


SO    VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

have  been  a  great  deal  worse.  I  say  the  same  as  to 
after  experience,  for  these  subsequent  fifty  years  or 
more  of  pioneer  life,  having  been  blessed  with  a  good 
constitution,  and  being  now  able  to  say  that  in  the  fifty- 
eight  years  of  our  married  life,  the  wife  has  never  seen 
me  a  day  sick  in  bed.  But  this  is  a  digression  and  so 
we  must  turn  our  attention  to  the  trip  on  the  scow, 
"floating  down  the  river." 

In  our  company,  a  party  of  three,  a  young  married 
couple  and  an  unmarried  sister,  lounged  on  their  belong- 
ings, listlessly  watching  the  ripples  on  the  water,  as 
did  also  others  of  the  party.  But  little  conversation 
was  passing.  Each  seemed  to  be  communing  with  him- 
self or  herself,  but  it  was  easy  to  see  what  were  the 
thoughts  occupying  the  minds  of  all.  The  young  hus- 
band, it  was  plain  to  be  seen,  would  soon  complete  that 
greater  journey  to  the  unknown  beyond,  a  condition 
that  weighed  so  heavily  upon  the  ladies  of  the  party, 
that  they  could  ill  conceal  their  solicitude  and  sorrow. 
Finally,  to  cheer  up  the  sick  husband  and  brother,  the 
ladies  began  in  sweet  subdued  voices  to  sing  the  old 
familiar  song  of  Home,  Sweet  Home,  whereupon  others 
of  the  party  joined  in  the  chorus  with  increased  volume 
of  sound.  As  the  echo  of  the  echo  died  away,  at  the 
moment  of  gliding  under  the  shadow  of  the  high  moun- 
tain, the  second  verse  was  begun,  but  was  never  finished. 
If  an  electric  shock  had  startled  every  individual  of  the 
party,  there  could  have  been  no  more  simultaneous  effect 
than  when  the  second  line  of  the  second  verse  was  reach- 
ed, when  instead  of  song,  sobs  and  outcries  of  grief 
poured  forth  from  all  lips.  It  seemed  as  if  there  was  a 
tumult   of   despair   mingled   with   prayer   pouring   forth 


FLOATING   DOWN   THE   RIVER  81 

without  restraint.  The  rugged  boatmen  rested  upon  their 
oars  in  awe,  and  gave  away  in  sympathy  with  the  scene 
before  them,  until  it  could  be  truly  said  no  dry  eyes 
were  left  nor  aching  heart  but  was  relieved.  Like  the 
down  pour  of  a  summer  shower  that  suddenly  clears  the 
atmosphere  to  welcome  the  bright  shining  sun  that  fol- 
lows, so  this  sudden  outburst  of  grief  cleared  away  the 
despondency  to  be  replaced  by  an  exalted  exhilarating 
feeling  of  buoyancy  and  hopefulness.  The  tears  were 
not  dried  till  mirth  took  possession — a  real  hysterical 
manifestation  of  the  whole  party,  that  ended  all  depres- 
sion for  the  remainder  of  the  trip. 

But  our  party  was  not  alone  in  these  trials.  It  seems 
to  me  as  like  the  dream  of  seeing  some  immigrants  float- 
ing on  a  submerged  raft  while  on  this  trip.  Perhaps,  it 
is  a  memory  of  a  memory,  or  of  a  long  lost  story,  the 
substance  remembered,  but  the  source  forgotten. 

Recently  a  story  was  told  me  by  one  of  the  actors 
in  the  drama,  that  came  near  a  tragic  ending.  Robert 
Parker,  who  still  lives  at  Sumner,  one  of  the  party,  has 
told  me  of  their  experience.  John  Whitaere,  afterwards 
Governor  of  Oregon,  was  the  head  of  the  party  of  nine 
that  constructed  a  raft  at  The  Dalles  out  of  dry  poles 
hauled  from  the  adjacent  country.  Their  stock  was 
then  started  oat  over  the  trail,  their  two  wagons  put 
upon  the  raft  with  their  provisions,  bedding,  women, 
and  children  in  the  wagons,  and  the  start  was  made  to 
float  down  the  river  to  the  Cascades.  They  had  gotten 
but  a  few  miles  until  experience  warned  them.  The 
waves  swept  over  the  raft  so  heavily  that  it  was  like 
a  sumberged  foundation  upon  which  their  wagons  stool. 
A  landing  a  few  miles  out  from  The  Dalles  averted   a 


82  VENTURES   AND  ADVENTURES   OF   EZRA   MEEKER 

total  wreck,  and  afforded  opportunity  to  strengthen  the 
buoyancy  of  their  raft  by  extra  timber  packed  upon 
their  backs  for  long  distances.  And  how  should  they 
know  when  they  would  reach  the  falls'?  Will  they  be 
able  to  discover  the  falls  and  then  have  time  to  make  a 
landing?  Their  fears  finally  got  the  better  of  them;  a 
line  was  run  ashore  and  instead  of  making  a  landing, 
they  found  themselves  hard  aground  out  of  reach  of 
land,  except  by  wading  a  long  distance,  and  yet  many 
miles  above  the  falls  (Cascades).  Finally,  a  scow  was 
procured,  in  which  they  all  reached  the  head  of  the  Cas- 
cades in  safety.  The  old  pioneer  spoke  kindly  of  this 
whole  party,  one  might  say  affectionately.  One,  a  waif 
picked  up  on  the  plains,  a  tender  girl  of  fifteen,  father- 
less and  motherless,  and  sick — a  wanderer  without  rel- 
atives or  acquaintances — all  under  the  sands  of  the  plains 
— recalled  the  trials  of  the  trip  vividly.  But,  he  had 
cheerful  news  of  her  in  after  life,  though  impossible  at 
the  moment  to  recall  her  name.  Such  were  some  of  the 
experiences  of  the  finish  of  the  long,  wearisome  trip  of 
those  who  floated  down  the  river  on  flatboat  and  raft. 


THE    ARRIVAL  83 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE    ARRIVAL. 

About  nine  o'clock  at  night,  with  a  bright  moon  shin- 
ing, on  October  1st,  1852,  I  carried  my  wife  in  my  arms 
up  the  steep  bank  of  the  Willamette  River,  and  three 
blocks  away  in  the  town  of  Portland  to  a  colored  man's 
lodging  house. 

"Why,  suh,  I  didn't  think  yuse  could  do  that,  yuse 
don't  look  it,"  said  my  colored  friend,  as  I  deposited  my 
charge  in  the  nice,  clean  bed  in  a  cozy,  little  room. 

From  April  until  October,  we  had  been  on  the  move 
in  the  tented  field,  with  never  a  roof  over  our  heads 
other  than  the  wagon  cover  or  tent,  and  for  the  last 
three  months,  no  softer  bed  than  either  the  ground  or 
bottom  of  the  wagon  bed.  We  had  found  a  little  steamer 
to  carry  us  from  the  Cascades  to  Portland,  with  most 
of  the  company  that  had  floated  down  the  river  from  The 
Dalles,  in  the  great  scow.  At  the  landing  we  separated, 
and  knew  each  other  but  slightly  afterwards.  The  great 
country,  Oregon,  (then  including  Puget  Sound)  was  large 
enough  to  swallow  up  a  thousand  such  immigrations  and 
yet  individuals  be  lost  to  each  other,  but  a  sorrier  mess 
it  would  be  difficult  to  imagine  than  confronted  us  upon 
arrival.  Some  rain  had  fallen,  and  more  soon  followed. 
With  the  stumps  and  logs,  mud  and  uneven  places,  it 
was  no  easy  matter  to  find  a  resting  place  for  the  tented 
city  so  continually  enlarging.  People  seemed  to  be  dazed ; 
did  not  know  what  to   do :   insufficient   shelter  to   house 


84  VENTURES   AND   ADVENTURES   OF   EZRA   MEEKER 

all;  work  for  all  impossible;  the  country  looked  a  veri- 
table great  field  of  forest  and  mountain.  Discourage- 
ment and  despair  seized  upon  some,  while  others  began 
to  enlarge  the  circle  of  observation.  A  few  had  friends 
and  acquaintances,  which  fact  began  soon  to  relieve  the 
situation  by  the  removals  that  followed  the  reunions, 
while  suffering,  both  mental  and  physical,  followed  the 
arrival  in  the  winter  storm  that  ensued,  yet  soon  the  at- 
mosphere of  discontent  disappeared,  and  general  cheer- 
fulness prevailed.  A  few  laid  down  in  their  beds  not  to 
arise  again ;  a  few  required  time  to  recuperate  their 
strength,  but  with  the  majority,  a  short  time  found  them 
as  active  and  hearty  as  if  nothing  had  happened.  For 
myself,  I  can  truly  say,  I  do  not  remember  the  experience 
as  a  personal  hardship.  I  had  been  born  of  healthy  par- 
ents. I  know  of  my  father  working  eighteen  hours  a  day 
for  three  years  in  the  Carlisle  mill  at  Indianapolis,  In- 
diana, for  75  cents  a  day,  and  as  an  experienced  miller 
at  that.  If  his  iron  will  or  physical  perfection  or  some- 
thing had  enabled  him  to  endure  this  ordeal  and  retain 
his  strength,  why  could  not  I,  thirty  years  younger,  hew 
my  way?  I  did  not  feel  fatigued.  True,  I  had  been 
"worked  down"  in  flesh,  but  more  from  lack  of  suitable 
food  than  from  excessive  exercitation.  Any  way,  I  re- 
solved to  try. 

My  brother,  Oliver,  who  had  crossed  the  plains  with 
me — a  noble  man  and  one  destined,  had  he  lived,  to  have 
made  his  mark — came  ahead  by  the  trail.  He  had  spied 
out  the  land  a  little  with  unsatisfactory  results,  met 
me  and  pointed  the  way  to  our  colored  friend's  abode. 
We  divided  our  purse  of  $3.75,  I  retaining  two  dollars 
and  he  taking  the  remainder,  and  with  earliest  dawn  of 


THE    ARRIVAL  83 

the  2nd  found  the  trail  leading  down  the  river,  search- 
ing for  our  mutual  benefit  for  something  to  do. 

Did  you,  reader,  ever  have  the  experience  of  a  pre- 
monition that  led  you  on  to  success?  Some  say  this  is 
simply  chance ;  others  say  that  it  is  a  species  of  super- 
stition, but  whatever  it  is,  probably  most  of  us,  some 
time  in  our  lives  have  had  some  sort  of  trials  to  set  us 
to  thinking. 

As  we  passed  up  the  Willamette,  a  few  miles  below 
Portland,  on  the  evening  of  our  arrival,  a  bark  lay  seem- 
ingly right  in  our  path  as  we  steamed  by.  Standing 
upon  the  lower  deck  of  our  little  steamer,  this  vessel 
looked  to  our  inexperienced  eyes  as  a  veritable  monster, 
with  masts  reaching  to  the  sky,  and  hull  towering  high 
above  our  heads.  Probably  not  one  of  that  whole  party 
of  frontiersmen  had  ever  before  seen  a  deep  sea  vessel. 
Hence,  small  wonder,  the  novelty  of  this  great  monster, 
as  we  all  thought  of  the  vessel,  should  excite  our  admir- 
ation and  we  might  almost  say,  amazement.  That  was 
what  we  came  so  far  for,  to  where  ships  might  go  down 
to  the  sea  and  return  laden  with  the  riches  of  the  earth. 
The  word  passed  that  she  was  bound  for  Portland  with 
a  cargo  of  merchandise  and  to  take  a  return  cargo  of 
lumber.  There,  as  we  passed,  flashed  through  my  mind, 
will  be  my  opportunity  for  work  tomorrow,  on  that 
vessel. 

Sure  enough,  when  the  morrow  came,  the  staunch 
bark  Mary  Melville  lay  quietly  in  front  of  the  mill,  and 
so,  not  losing  any  time  in  early  morning,  my  inquiry  was 
made  "do  you  want  any  men  on  board  this  ship?"  A 
gruff  looking  fellow  eyed  me  all  over  as  much  as  to  say, 
"not  you,"  but  answered,  "yes.  go  below  and  get  your 


86  VENTURES   AND  ADVENTURES   OP  EZRA  MEEKER 

breakfast."  I  fairly  stammered  out,  I  must  go  and  see 
my  wife  first,  and  let  her  know  where  I  am,  whereupon 
came  back  a  growl  "of  course,  that  will  be  the  last  of 
you;  that's  the  way  with  these  new  comers,  always  hunt- 
ing for  work  and  never  wanting  it"  (this  aside  to  a  com- 
panion, but  in  my  hearing).  I  swallowed  my  indigna- 
tion with  the  assurance  that  I  would  be  back  in  five 
minutes  and  so  went  post  haste  to  the  little  sufferer  to 
impart   the   good  news. 

Put  yourself  in  my  place,  you  land  lubber,  who 
never  came  under  the  domination  of  a  brutal  mate  of  a 
sailing  vessel  fifty  years  ago.  My  ears  fairly  tingled 
with  hot  anger  at  the  harsh  orders,  but  I  stuck  to  the 
work,  smothering  my  rage  at  being  berated  while  doing 
my  very  best  to  please  and  to  expedite  the  work.  The 
fact  gradually  dawned  on  me  that  the  man  was  not 
angry,  but  had  fallen  in  the  way  of  talking  as  though  he 
was,  and  that  the  sailors  paid  slight  heed  to  what  he 
said.  Before  night,  however,  the  fellow  seemed  to  let 
up  on  me,  while  increasing  his  tirade  on  the  heads  of 
their  regular  men.  The  second  and  third  day  wore  off 
with  blistered  hands,  but  with  never  a  word  about  wages 
or  pay. 

"Say,  boss,  I'se  got  to  pay  my  rent,  and  wese  always 
gets  our  pay  in  advance.  I  doesn't  like  to  ask  you,  but 
can't  you  get  the  old  boss  to  put  up  something  on  your 
work?"  I  could  plainly  see  that  it  was  a  notice  to  pay 
or  move.  He  was  giving  it  to  me  in  thinly  veiled  words. 
What  should  I  do?  Suppose  the  old  skipper  should 
take  umbrage,  and  discharge  me  for  asking  for  wages 
before  the  end  of  the  week?  But  when  I  told  him  what 
I  wanted  the  money  for,  the  old  man's  eyes  moistened, 


THE    ARRIVAL.  87 

but  without  a  word,  he  gave  me  more  money  than  I 
had  asked  for,  and  that  night  the  steward  handed  me  a 
bottle  of  wine  for  the  "missus,"  which  I  knew  instinct- 
ively came  from  the  old  captain. 

The  baby's  Sunday  visit  to  the  ship;  the  Sunday 
dinner  in  the  cabin;  the  presents  of  delicacies  that  fol- 
lowed, even  from  the  gruff  mate,  made  me  feel  that  under 
all  this  roughness,  a  tender  spot  of  humanity  lay,  and 
that  one  must  not  judge  by  outward  apearances  too 
much — that  even  way  out  here,  three  thousand  miles  from 
home,  the  same  sort  of  people  lived  as  those  I  had  left 
behind  me. 

"St.  Helens,  October  7th,  1852. 

"Dear  Brother:  Come  as  soon  as  you  can.  Have 
rented  a  house,  sixty  boarders ;  this  is  going  to  be  the 
place.     Shall  I  send  you  money?  0.  P.  M." 

The  mate  importuned  me  to  stay  until  the  cargo  was 
on  board,  which  I  did  until  the  last  stick  of  lumber  was 
stowed,  the  last  pig  in  the  pen,  and  the  ship  swung 
off  bound  on  her  outward  voyage.  I  felt  as  though  I  had 
an  interest  in  her,  but,  remembering  the  forty  dollars 
in  the  aggregate  I  had  received,  with  most  of  it  to  jingle 
in  my  pockets,  I  certainly  could  claim  no  financial  in- 
terest, but  from  that  day  on  I  never  saw  or  heard  the  name 
of  the  bark  Mary  Melville  without  pricking  my  ears, 
(figuratively,  of  course)  to  hear  more  about  her  and  the 
old  captain  and  his  gruff  mate. 

Sure  enough,  I  found  St.  Helens  to  be  the  place. 
Here  was  to  be  the  terminus  of  the  steamship  line  from 
San  Francisco.  "Wasn't  the  company  building  this 
wharf?"     They  wouldn't  set  sixty  men  to  work  on  the 


88    VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

dock  without  they  meant  business.  "Ships  can't  get 
up  that  creek"  (meaning  the  Willamette),  "the  big  city 
is  going  to  be  here."  This  was  the  talk  that  greeted  my 
ears,  after  we  had  carried  the  wife,  (this  time  in  a 
chair)  to  our  hotel.  Yes,  our  hotel,  and  had  deposited 
her  and  the  baby  in  the  best  room  the  house  afforded. 

It  was  here  I  made  acquaintance  with  Columbia  Lan- 
caster, afterwards  elected  as  the  first  delegate  to  Con- 
gress from  Washington.  I  have  always  felt  that  the 
published  history  of  those  days  has  not  done  the  old 
man  justice,  and  has  been  governed  in  part,  at  least, 
by  factional  bias.  Lancaster  believed  that  what  was 
worth  doing  at  all  was  worth  doing  well,  and  he  lived 
it.  He  used  to  come  across  the  Columbia  with  his  small 
boat,  rowed  by  his  own  hand,  laden  with  vegetables 
grown  by  himself  on  his  farm  opposite  St.  Helens,  in 
the  fertile  valley  of  Lewis  River.  I  soon  came  to  know 
that  what  Lancaster  said  of  his  produce  was  true  to  the 
letter;  that  if  he  told  me  he  had  good  potatoes,  he  had. 
and  that  they  were  the  same  in  the  middle  or  bottom  of 
the  sack  as  at  the  top.  And  so  with  all  his  produce. 
We  at  once  became  his  heaviest  customer,  and  learned 
to  trust  him  implicitly.  I  considered  him  a  typical  pio- 
neer, and  his  name  never  would  have  been  used  so  con- 
temptuously had  it  not  been  that  he  became  a  thorn 
in  the  side  of  men  who  made  politics  a  trade  for  per- 
sonal profit.  Lancaster  upset  their  well  laid  plans,  car- 
ried off  the  honors  of  the  democratic  nomination,  and 
was  elected  as  our  first  delegate  in  Congress  from  the 
new  Territory  of  Washington. 

One  January  morning  of  1853,  the  sixty  men,  (our 
boarders)    did  not  go  to  work  dock  building  as  usual. 


THE    ARRIVAL  89 

Orders  had  come  to  suspend  work.  Nobody  knew  why, 
or  for  how  long.  We  soon  learned  the  why,  as  the  steam- 
ship company  had  given  up  the  fight  against  Portland, 
and  would  thenceforward  run  their  steamers  to  that 
port.  For  how  long,  was  speedily  determined,  for  the 
dock  was  not  finished  and  was  allowed  to  fall  into  decay 
and  disappear  by  the  hand  of  time. 

Our  boarders  scattered,  and  our  occupation  was  gone, 
and  our  accumulation  in  great  part  rendered  worthless 
to  us  by  the  change. 

Meantime,  snow  had  fallen  to  a  great  depth;  the 
price  of  forage  for  cattle  rose  by  leaps  and  bounds,  and 
we  found  that  we  must  part  with  half  of  our  stock  to 
save  the  remainder.  It  might  be  necessary  to  feed  for 
a  month,  or  for  three  months,  but  we  could  not  tell,  and 
so  the  last  cow  was  given  up  that  we  might  keep  one 
yoke  of  oxen,  so  necessary  for  the  work  on  a  new  place. 
Then  the  hunt  for  a  claim  began  again.  One  day's 
struggle  against  the  current  of  Lewis  River,  and  a  night 
standing  in  a  snow  and  sleet  storm  around  a  camp  fire 
of  green  wood,  cooled  our  ardor  a  little,  and  two  hours 
sufficed  to  take  us  back  home  next  morning. 

But  claims  we  must  have.  That  was  what  we  had 
come  to  Oregon  for;  we  were  going  to  be  farmers.  Wife 
and  I  had  made  that  bargain  before  we  closed  the  other 
more  important  contract.  We  were,  however,  both  of  one 
mind  as  to  both  contracts.  Early  in  January  of  1853 
the  snow  began  disappearing  rapidly,  and  the  search 
became  more  earnest,  until  finally,  about  the  20th  of 
January,  I  drove  my  first  stake  for  a  claim,  to  include 
the  site  where  the  town,  or  city,  of  Kalama  now  stands, 
and  here  built  our  first  cabin. 


90    VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

That  cabin  I  can  see  in  my  mind  as  vividly  as  I  could 
the  first  day  after  it  was  finished.  It  was  the  first  home 
I  ever  owned.  What  a  thrill  of  joy  that  name  brought 
to  us.  Home.  It  was  our  home,  and  no  one  could  say 
aye,  yes,  or  no,  as  to  what  we  should  do.  No  more  rough 
talk  on  ship  board  or  at  the  table ;  no  more  restrictions 
if  we  wished  to  be  a  little  closer  together.  The  glow  of 
the  cheek  had  returned  to  the  wife ;  the  dimple  to  the 
baby.  And  such  a  baby.  In  the  innocence  of  our  souls 
we  really  and  truly  thought  we  had  the  smartest,  cutest 
baby  on  earth.  I  wonder  how  many  millions  of  young 
parents  have  since  experienced  that  same  feeling?  I 
would  not  tear  the  veil  from  off  their  eyes  if  I  could. 
Let  them  think  so,  for  it  will  do  them  good — make  them 
happy,  even  if,  perchance,  it  should  be  an  illusion — it's 
real  to  them.  But  I  am  admonished  that  I  must  close 
this  writing  now,  and  tell  about  the  cabin,  and  the  early 
garden,  and  the  trip  to  Puget  Sound  in  another  chapter. 


THE    FIRST    CABIN  91 

CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  FIRST  CABIN. 

What  a  charm  the  words  our  first  cabin  have  to  the 
pioneer.  To  many,  it  was  the  first  home  ever  owned 
by  them,  while  to  many  others,  like  myself,  the  first  we 
ever  had.  We  had  been  married  nearly  two  years,  yet 
this  was  really  our  first  abiding  place.  All  others  had 
been  merely  way  stations  on  the  march  westward  from 
Indianapolis  to  this  cabin.  Built  of  small,  straight  logs, 
on  a  side  hill,  with  the  door  in  the  end  fronting  the 
river,  and  with  but  little  grading,  for  the  rocky  nature 
of  the  location  would  not  admit  of  it.  Three  steps  were 
required  to  reach  the  floor.  The  ribs  projected  in  front 
a  few  feet  to  provide  an  open  front  porch,  with  a  ground 
floor,  not  for  ornament,  but  for  storage  for  the  dry  wood 
and  kindling  so  necessary  for  the  comfort  and  convenience 
of  the  mistress  of  the  house.  The  walls  were  but  scant 
five  feet,  with  not  a  very  steep  roof,  and  a  large  stone 
fire  place  and  chimney — the  latter  but  seven  feet  high — 
completed  our  first  home. 

The  great  river,  nearly  a  mile  and  three  quarters 
wide,  seemed  to  tire  from  its  ceaseless  flow  at  least  once 
a  day  as  if  taking  a  nooning  spell,  while  the  tides  from 
the  ocean,  sixty  miles  away,  contended  for  mastery,  and 
sometimes  succeeded  in  turning  the  current  up  stream. 
Immediately  in  front  of  our  landing  lay  a  small  island 
of  a  few  acres  in  extent,  covered  with  heavy  timber  and 


92  VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

drift-wood.  This  has  long'  since  disappeared  and  ships 
now  pass  over  the  spot  with  safety. 

Scarcely  had  we  become  settled  in  our  new  home  be-- 
fore  there  came  a  mighty  flood  that  covered  the  waters 
of  the  river  with  wrecks  of  property  impossible  to  enum- 
erate. Our  attention  was  immediately  turned  to  securing 
logs  that  came  floating  down  the  river  in  great  num- 
bers. In  a  very  short  time  we  had  a  raft  that  was  worth 
quite  a  sum  of  money  could  we  but  get  it  to  the  market. 
Encouraged  by  this  find,  we  immediately  turned  our 
attention  to  some  fine  timber  standing  close  to  the  bank 
near  by,  and  began  hand  logging  to  supplement  what 
we  had  already  secured  afloat.  I  have  often  wondered 
what  we  would  have  done  had  it  not  been  for  this  find, 
for  in  the  course  of  seven  -weeks  three  of  us  marketed 
eight  hundred  dollars  worth  of  logs  that  enabled  us  to 
obtain  flour,  even  if  we  did  pay  fifty  dollars  a  barrel, 
and  potatoes  at  two  dollars  a  bushel,  and  sometimes 
more. 

And  yet,  because  of  that  hand  logging  work,  Jane 
came  very  near  becoming  a  widow  one  morning  before 
breakfast,  but  did  not  know  of  it  until  long  afterwards. 
It  occurred  in  this  way.  We  did  not  then  know  how  to 
scaffold  up  above  the  tough,  swelled  butts  of  the  large 
trees,  and  this  made  it  very  difficult  to  chop  them  down. 
So  we  burned  them  by  boring  two  holes  at  an  angle  to 
meet  inside  the  inner  bark,  and  by  getting  the  fire  started, 
the  heart  of  the  tree  would  burn,  leaving  an  outer  shell 
of  bark.  One  morning,  as  usual,  I  was  up  early,  and 
after  starting  the  fire  in  the  stove  and  putting  on  the 
tea  kettle,  I  hastened  to  the  burning  timber  to  start 
afresh  the  fires,  if  perchance,  some  had  ceased  to  burn. 


THE    FIRST    CABIN  93 

Nearing  a  clump  of  three  giants,  two  hundred  and  fifty 
feet  tall,  one  began  toppling  over  toward  me.  In  my 
confusion  I  ran  across  the  path  where  it  fell,  and  while 
this  had  scarce  reached  the  ground,  a  second  started  to 
fall  almost  parallel  to  the  first,  scarcely  thirty  feet  apart 
at  the  top,  leaving  me  between  the  two  with  limbs  flying 
in  a  good  many  directions.  If  I  had  not  become  entan- 
gled in  some  brush,  I  would  have  gotten  under  the  last 
falling  tree.  It  was  a  marvelous  escape,  and  would  al- 
most lead  one  to  think  that  there  is  such  a  thing  as  a 
charmed  life. 

The  rafting  of  our  precious  accumulations  down  the 
Columbia  River  to  Oak  Point;  the  relentless  current  that 
carried  us  by  where  we  had  contracted  our  logs  at  six 
dollars  a  thousand;  the  following  the  raft  to  the  larger 
waters,  and  finally,  to  Astoria,  Avhere  we  sold  them  for 
eight  dollars,  instead  of  six  per  thousand,  thus  profiting 
by  our  misfortunes;  the  involuntary  plunge  off  the  raft 
into  the  river  with  my  boots  on ;  the  three  days  and 
nights  of  ceaseless  toil  and  watching  would  make  a  thrill- 
ing story  if  we  had  but  the  time  to  tell  it.  Our  final 
success  was  complete,  which  takes  off  the  keen  edge  of 
the  excitement  of  the  hour,  and  when  finished,  we  unani- 
mously voted  we  would  have  none  of  it  more. 

At  Oak  Point  we  found  George  Abernethy,  former 
Governor  of  Oregon,  who  had  quite  recently  returned 
with  his  family  from  the  "States,"  and  had  settled  down 
in  the  lumber  business.  He  had  a  mill  running  of  a 
capacity  of  about  25,000  feet  of  lumber  a  day.  It  was 
a  water  power  mill,  and  the  place  presented  quite  ;i 
smart  business  air  for  the  room  they  had.  But  Oak 
Point  did  not  grow  to  be  much  of  a  lumber  or  business 


94    VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

center,  and  the  water  mill  eventually  gave  way  to  steam, 
located  elsewhere,  better  suited  for  the  business. 

The  flour  sack  was  nearly  empty  when  we  left  home 
expecting  to  be  absent  but  one  night,  and  now  we  had 
been  gone  a  week.  There  were  no  neighbors  nearer  than 
four  miles  and  no  roads — scarcely  a  trail — the  only  com- 
munication was  by  the  river.  What  about  the  wife  and 
baby  alone  in  the  cabin  with  the  deep  timber  close  by 
in  the  rear,  and  heavy  jungle  of  brush  in  the  front? 
Nothing  about  it.  We  found  them  all  right  upon  our 
return,  but  like  the  log  drivers  with  their  experience,  the 
little  wife  said  she  wanted  no  more  of  cabin  life  alone. 
And  yet,  like  adventures  and  like  experiences  followed. 

The  February  sun  of  1853  shone  almost  like  midsum- 
mer. The  clearing  grew  almost  as  if  by  magic.  We 
could  not  resist  the  temptation  to  begin  planting,  and 
before  March  was  gone,  the  rows  of  peas,  lettuce,  and 
onions  growing  on  the  river  bank  could  be  seen  from  the 
cabin  door,  thirty  rods  away. 

One  day  I  noticed  some  three  cornered  bits  of  potatoes 
that  had  been  cut  out,  not  bigger  than  the  end  of  my 
finger.  These  all  ran  to  a  point  as  though  cut  out  from 
a  pattern.  The  base,  or  outer  skin,  all  contained  an  eye 
of  the  potato.  The  wife  said  these  would  grow  and 
would  help  us  out  about  seed  when  planting  time  came, 
and  we  could  have  the  body  of  the  potatoes  to  eat.  That 
would  have  seemed  a  plausible  scheme  had  we  been  able 
to  plant  at  once,  but  by  this  time  we  had  been  forcibly 
reminded  that  there  was  another  impending  flood  for 
June,  incident  to  the  melting  of  the  snow  on  the  moun- 
tains, a  thousand  miles  away,  as  the  channel  ran.  But 
the  experiment  would  not  cost  much,  so  the  potato  eyes 


THE    FIRST    CABIN  95 

were  carefully  saved  and  spread  out  on  shelves  where 
they  became  so  dry  that  they  would  rattle  like  dry  onion 
sets  when  handled.  Every  steamer  outward  bound  car- 
ried potatoes  for  the  San  Francisco  market,  until  it 
became  a  question  whether  enough  would  be  left  for 
seed,  so  that  three  and  even  four  cents  per  pound  was 
asked  and  paid  for  sorry  looking  culls.  We  must  have 
seed,  and  so,  after  experimenting  with  the  dried  eyes, 
planted  in  moist  earth  in  a  box  kept  warm  in  the  cabin, 
we  became  convinced  that  the  little  lady  of  the  house- 
hold was  right,  so  ate  potatoes  freely  even  at  these  famine 
prices.  Sure  enough,  the  flood  came,  the  planting  de- 
layed until  July,  and  yet  a  crop  was  raised  that  undug 
brought  in  nearly  four  hundred  dollars,  for  we  did  not 
stay  to  harvest  them,  or  in  fact,  cultivate  them,  leaving 
that  to  another  who  became  interested  in  the  venture. 

In  April,  the  word  began  to  pass  around  that  we  were 
to  have  a  new  Territory  to  embrace  the  country  north  of 
the  Columbia  River,  with  its  capital  on  Puget  Sound, 
and  here  on  the  Columbia  we  would  be  way  off  to  one  side 
and  out  of  touch  with  the  people  who  would  shortly  be- 
come a  great,  separate  commonwealth.  Besides,  had  we 
not  come  all  the  way  across  the  plains  to  get  to  the  Sea 
Board,  and  here  we  were  simply  on  the  bank  of  a  river — 
a  great  river  to  be  sure,  with  its  ship  channel,  but  then, 
that  bar  at  the  mouth,  what  about  it?  Then  the  June 
freshet,  what  about  that? 

So,  leaving  the  little  wife  and  baby  in  the  cabin 
home,  one  bright  morning  in  May,  my  brother  Oliver 
and  myself  made  each  of  us  a  pack  of  forty  pounds  and 
took  the  trail,  bound  for  Puget  Sound,  camping  where 
night  overtook  us,  and  sleeping  in  the  open  air  without 


06    VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES  OP  EZRA  MEEKER 

shelter  or  cover  other  than  that  afforded  by  some  friendly 
tree  with  drooping  limbs.  Our  trail  first  led  us  down 
near  the  right  bank  of  the  Columbia  to  the  Cowlitz, 
thence  up  the  latter  river  thirty  miles  or  more,  and  then 
across  the  country  nearly  sixty  miles  to  Olympia,  and 
to  the  salt  sea  water  of  the  Pacific  sent  inland  a  hun- 
dred and  fifty  miles  by  the  resistless  tides,  twice  a  day 
for  every  day  of  the  year. 

Our  expectations  had  been  raised  by  the  glowing  ac- 
counts about  Puget  Sound,  and  so,  when  we  could  see  in 
the  foreground  but  bare,  dismal  mud  flats,  and  beyond 
but  a  few  miles,  of  water  with  a  channel  scarce  twice  as 
wide  as  the  channel  of  the  great  river  we  had  left,  bound- 
ed on  either  .side  by  high  table,  heavily  timbered  land, 
a  feeling  of  deep  disappointment  fell  upon  us,  with  the 
wish  that  we  were  back  at  our  cabin  on  the  river. 

Should  we  turn  around  and  go  back?  No,  that  was 
what  we  had  not  yet  done  since  leaving  our  Indiana 
home  eighteen  months  before ;  but  what  was  the  use  of 
stopping  here?  We  wanted  a  place  to  make  a  farm, 
and  we  could  not  do  it  on  such  forbidding  land  as  this. 
Had  not  the  little  wife  and  I  made  a  solemn  bargain  or 
compact,  before  we  were  married  that  we  were  going  to 
be  farmers?  Here,  I  could  see  a  dense  forest  stretched 
out  before  me  quite  interesting  to  the  lumberman,  and 
for  aught  I  knew,  channels  for  the  ships,  but  I  wanted 
to  be  neither  a  lumberman  nor  sailor,  and  so  my  first 
camp  on  Puget  Sound  was  not  cheerful  and  my  first 
night  not  passed  in  contentment. 

Olympia  at  the  time  contained  about  100  inhabitants. 

i  It  could  boast  having  three  stores,  a  hotel,  a  livery  stable, 

and  saloon,  with  one  weekly  newspaper,  then  publishing 


THE    FIRST    CABIN  97 

its  thirtieth  number.  A  glance  at  the  advertising  col- 
umns of  this  paper,  the  "Columbian,"  (named  for  what 
was  expected  would  be  the  name  of  the  new  Territory) 
disclosed  but  few  local  advertisers,  the  two  pages  de- 
voted to  advertising  being  filled  by  announcements  of 
business  other  than  in  Olympia.  "Everybody  knows 
everybody  here,"  said  a  business  man  to  me,  "so  what's 
the  use  of  advertising."  And  it  was  thus  with  those 
who  had  been  in  the  place  for  a  few  weeks,  and  so  it 
continued  all  over  the  pioneer  settlements  for  years.  To 
meet  a  man  on  the  road  or  on  the  street  without  speak- 
ing was  considered  rude.  It  became  the  universal  prac- 
tice to  greet  even  strangers  as  well  as  acquaintances, 
and  to  this  day  I  doubt  if  there  are  many  of  the  old 
settlers  yet  devoid  of  the  impulse  to  pass  the  time  of 
day  with  hearty  greetings  to  whomsoever  they  may  meet, 
be  they  acquaintances  or  strangers. 

Edmund  Sylvester  in  partnership  with  Levi  L.  Smith, 
located  the  claims  where  the  town  of  Olympia  is  built, 
in  1848.  Mr.  Smith  soon  after  died,  leaving  Sylvester 
as  sole  proprietor  of  the  town,  where  I  saw  him,  as  it  will 
appear,  five  years  later.  It  is  said  that  Colonel  I.  N. 
Ebey  suggested  the  name  Olympia,  which  was  not  given 
to  the  place  until  after  Mr.  Sylvester's  flight  to  the  gold 
mines  of  California  and  return  in   1850. 

But  we  could  not  stay  here  at  Olympia.  We  had 
pushed  on  past  some  good  locations  on  the  Chehalis,  and 
further  south,  without  locating,  and  now,  should  we  re- 
trace our  steps?  Brother  Oliver  said  no.  My  better 
judgment  said  no,  though  sorely  pressed  with  that  feel- 
ing of  homesickness,  or  blues,  or  whatever  we  may  call 
it.     The  resolve  was  quickly  made   that  we  would  see 


98  VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

more  of  this  Puget  Sound,  that  we  were  told  presented 
nearly  as  many  miles  of  shore  line  as  we  had  traveled 
westward  from  the  Missouri  River  to  Portland,  near  six- 
teen hundred  miles,  and  which  we  afterwards  found  to 
be  true. 

But  how  were  we  to  go  and  see  these,  to  us  unex- 
plored waters?  I  said  I  would  not  go  in  one  of  those 
things,  the  Indian  canoe,  that  we  would  upset  it  before 
we  were  out  half  an  hour.  Brother  Olover  pointed  to  the 
fact  the  Indians  navigated  the  whole  Sound  in  these 
canoes,  and  were  safe,  but  I  was  inexorable  and  would 
not  trust  my  carcass  in  a  craft  that  would  tip  so  easily 
as  a  Siwash  canoe.  When  I  came  to  know  the  Indians 
better,  I  ceased  to  use  such  a  term,  and  afterwards  when 
I  saw  the  performances  of  these  apparently  frail  craft, 
my  admiration  was  greater  in  degree  than  my  contempt 
had  been. 

Of  the  cruise  that  followed  on  Puget  Sound,  and  in 
what  manner  of  craft  we  made  it,  and  of  various  inci- 
dents of  the  trip  that  occupied  a  month,  I  must  defer 
telling  now,  and  leave  this  part  of  the  story  for  suc- 
ceeding chapters. 


CRUISE   ON   PUGET   SOUND  99 

CHAPTER  X. 

CRUISE    ON   PUGET  SOUND. 

Put  yourself  in  my  place,  reader,  for  a  time — long 
enough  to  read  this  chapter.  Think  of  yourself  as  young 
again,  if  elderly  (I  will  not  say  old)  ;  play  you  have 
been  old  and  now  young  again,  until  you  find  out  about 
this  trip  on  Puget  Sound  fifty  and  more  years  ago.  Then 
think  of  Puget  Sound  in  an  inquiring  mood,  as  though 
you  knew  nothing  about  it,  only  a  little  indefinite  hear- 
say; enough  to  know  there  is  such  a  name,  but  not  what 
manner  of  place  or  how  large  or  how  small;  whether 
it  was  one  single  channel,  like  a  river,  or  numerous  chan- 
nels ;  whether  it  was  a  bay  or  a  series  of  bays  or  whether 
it  was  a  lake,  but  somehow  connected  with  the  sea,  and 
then  you  will  be  in  the  mood  these  two  young  men  were, 
when  they  descended  the  hill  with  their  packs  on  their 
backs  and  entered  the  town  of  Olympia  in  May,  1853. 
Now,  if  you  are  in  this  inquiring  mood,  I  will  take  you 
in  my  confidence  and  we  will  live  the  cruise  over  again 
of  thirty-two  days  of  adventures  and  observation  on 
Puget  Sound  fifty-six  years  ago. 

I  was  but  a  few  months  past  twenty-three,  while  my 
brother  Oliver  could  claim  nearly  two  years  seniority. 
We  had  always  played  together  as  boys,  worked  together 
as  men,  and  lived  together  even  after  his  marriage  until 
the  day  of  his  death,  now  forty-nine  years  ago,  and  so  far 
as  I  can  remember,  never  had  a  disagreement  in  our 
whole  life. 


100        VENTURES   AND   ADVENTURES   OP  EZRA   MEEKER 

So,  when  we  cast  off  the  line  at  Olympia,  on  or  about 
the  28th  day  of  May,  1853,  we  were  assured  of  one  thing 
and  that  was  a  concert  of  action,  be  there  danger  or  only 
labor  ahead.  Neither  of  us  had  had  much  experience  in 
boating,  and  none  as  to  boat  building,  but  when  we 
decided  to  make  the  trip  and  discarded  the  idea  of  taking 
a  canoe  we  set  to  work  with  a  hearty  good  will  to  build 
us  a  skiff  out  of  light  lumber,  then  easily  obtained  at  the 
Tumwater  mill  of  Hays,  Ward  &  Co.,  in  business  at  that 
place. 

I  knew  Ira  Ward  of  the  firm  of  Hays  &  Ward  inti- 
mately for  long  years  afterwards,  and  I  may  say  until 
the  day  of  his  death  which  recently  occurred  at  the  ad- 
vanced age  of  86  years,  and  can  testify  as  to  his  worth 
as  a  citizen  of  the  new  commonwealth  where  he  cast 
his  lot  and  to  his  kindly  nature  with  an  unbounded  hos- 
pitality to  which  so  many  of  the  early  pioneers  can 
testify. 

We  determined  to  have  the  skiff  broad  enough  to  not 
upset  easily,  and  long  enough  to  carry  us  and  our  light 
cargo  of  food  and  bedding.  Like  the  trip  across  the 
plains  we  must  provide  our  own  transportation.  We  were 
told  that  the  Sound  was  a  solitude  so  far  as  transporta- 
tion facilities,  with  here  and  there  a  vessel  loading  piles 
and  square  timber  for  the  San  Francisco  market.  Not  a 
steamer  was  then  plying  on  the  Sound;  not  ever  a  sail- 
ing craft  that  essayed  to  carry  passengers.  We  did  not 
really  know  whether  we  would  go  twenty  miles  or  a 
hundred;  whether  we  would  find  small  waters  or  large; 
straight  channels  or  intricate  by-ways;  in  a  word  Ave 
knew  but  very  little  of  what  lay  before  us.  If  we  had 
known  a  little  more,  we  would  not  have  encountered  the 


CRUISE   ON  PUGET   SOUND  101 

risks  we  did.  One  thing  we  knew,  we  could  endure 
sturdy  labor  without  fatigue,  and  improvised  camp  with- 
out discomfort,  for  we  were  used  to  just  such  experi- 
ences. Poor  innocent  souls,  we  thought  we  could  fol- 
low the  shore  line  and  thus  avoid  danger,  and  perhaps 
float  with  the  tide  and  thus  minimize  the  labor,  and  yet 
keep  our  bearings. 

George  A.  Barnes  sold  us  the  nails  and  oakum  for 
building  the  boat  and  charged  us  25  cents  per  pound 
for  the  former,  but  could  not  sell  us  any  pitch  as  that 
was  to  be  had  for  the  taking.  However,  articles  of  mer- 
chandise were  not  high,  though  country  produce  sold 
for  extreme  prices. 

Recently  I  have  seen  a  "retail  prices  current  of  Puget 
Sound,  Washington  Territory,  corrected  weekly  by  Par- 
ker, Colter  &  Co.,"  in  which,  among  many  others,  tin* 
following  prices  are  quoted  in  the  columns  of  the  only 
paper  in  the  Territory  then  published  in  Olympia,  the 
"Columbian,"  as  follows: 

Pork,   per  lb ....$     .20 

Flour,  per  100  lbs 10.00 

Potatoes,  per  bushel  — 3.00 

Butter,  per  lb 1.00 

Onions,  per  bushel 4.00 

Eggs,  per  dozen 1.00 

Beets,  per  bushel  ..... 3.50 

Sugar,  per  lb 12V-2 

Coffee,  per  lb...... 18 

Tea,  per  lb 75c  and     1.00 

Molasses,  per  gallon 50c  and       .75 

Salmon,  per  lb... 10 

Whisky,  per  gallon 1.00 


102        VENTURES   AND  ADVENTURES   OP  EZRA  MEEKER 

Sawed  lumber,  fir,  per  M 20.00 

Cedar,  per  M 30.00 

Shingles,  per  M $4.25  to     5.00 

Piles,  per  foot 5  to       .08 

Square  timber,  per  foot 12  to       .15 

Thus  it  will  be  seen  that  what  the  farmer  had  to  sell 
was  high  while  much  he  must  buy  was  comparatively 
cheap,  even  his  whisky,  then  but  a  dollar  a  gallon,  while 
his  potatoes  sold  for  $3.00  a  bushel. 

This  Parker,  of  Parker,  Colter  &  Co.,  is  the  same  John 
B.  Parker,  Jr.,  of  steamboat  fame  who  yet  lives  in  Olym- 
pia,  now  an  old  man,  but  never  contented  without  his 
hand  on  the  wheel  in  the  pilot  house,  where  I  saw  him 
but  a  few  years  ago  on  his  new  steamer  the  Caswell, 
successor  to  his  first,  the  Traveler,  of  fifty  years  before. 

Two  or  three  other  stores  besides  Barnes'  and  Parker's 
were  then  doing  business  in  Olympia,  the  Kandall  Com- 
pany, with  Joseph  Cushman  as  agent;  A.  J.  Moses,  and 
I  think  the  Bettman  Brothers. 

Rev.  Benjamin  F.  Close,  Methodist,  held  religious 
service  in  a  small  building  near  Barnes'  store,  but  there 
was  no  church  edifice  for  several  years.  Near  by,  the 
saloon  element  had  found  a  foothold,  but  I  made  no 
note  of  them  in  my  mind  other  than  to  remember  they 
were  there  and  running  every  day  of  the  week  including 
Sunday. 

The  townsite  proprietor,  Edmund  Sylvester,  kept  the 
hotel  of  the  town,  the  "Washington,"  at  the  corner  of  2nd 
and  Main  Street,  a  locality  now  held  to  be  too  far  down 
on  the  water  front,  but  then  the  center  of  trade  and 
traffic. 

G.  N.  McConaha  and  J.  W.  Wiley  dispensed  the  law 


CRUISE   ON   PUGET   SOUND  103 

and  H.  A.  Goldsborough  &  Simmons  (M.  T.  Simmons) 
looked  out  for  the  real  estate  and  conveyances.  Add 
to  these  a  bakery,  a  livery  stable,  and  a  blacksmith  shop 
and  we  have  the  town  of  Olympia  in  our  mind  again  of 
possibly  100  people  who  then  believed  a  great  future 
lay  in  store  for  their  embryo  city  "at  the  head  of  Puget 
Sound." 

Three  leading  questions  occupied  the  attention  of  all 
parties  while  we  were  in  this  little  ambitious  city,  the 
new  Territorial  organization  so  soon  to  be  inaugurated, 
the  question  of  an  overland  railroad,  and  of  an  over 
mountain  immigrant  wagon  road.  The  last  was  the 
absorbing  topic  of  conversation,  as  it  was  a  live  enter- 
prise dependent  upon  the  efforts  of  the  citizens  for  suc- 
cess. Meetings  had  been  held  in  different  parts  of  the 
district  west  of  the  Cascade  Mountains  and  north  of 
the  Columbia  Eiver,  and  finally  subscription  lists  were 
circulated,. a  cashier  and  superintendent  appointed,  with 
the  result,  as  stated  elsewhere,  of  opening  the  way  for 
the  first  immigration  over  the  Cascade  Mountains  via 
the  Natchess  Pass,  but  the  particulars  of  this  work  are 
given  in  other  chapters  following. 

As  the  tide  drew  off  the  placid  waters  of  the  bay  at 
Olympia  with  just  a  breath  of  air,  our  little  craft  be- 
haved splendidly  as  the  slight  ripples  were  jostled  against 
the  bow  under  the  pressure  of  the  sail  and  brought  dreams 
of  a  pleasure  trip,  to  make  amends  for  the  tiresome  pack 
across  the  country.  Nothing  can  be  more  enjoyable  than 
favorable  conditions  in  a  boating  trip,  the  more  especially 
to  those  who  have  long  been  in  the  harness  of  severe  labor, 
and  for  a  season  must  enjoy  enforced  repose.  And  so  we 
lazily   floated   with    the   tide,    sometimes   taking    a    few 


104        VENTURES   AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

strokes  with  the  oars,  and  at  other  times  whistling  for 
the  wind,  as  the  little  town  of  Olympia  to  the  south,  be- 
came dimmed  by  distance. 

At  this  southern  extremity  of  the  Sound  without  the 
accumulation  of  water  to  struggle  for  passage,  as  through 
the  channel  to  the  north,  the  movement  is  neither  swift, 
nor  disturbed  with  cross  currents  to  agitate  the  surface — 
more  like  the  steady  flow  of  a  great  river. 

But  we  were  no  sooner  fairly  out  of  sight  of  the  little 
village  and  out  of  the  bay  it  was  situated  upon  (Budd's 
Inlet),  than  the  query  came  up  as  to  which  way  to  go. 
Was  it  this  channel  or  that  or  yet  another  one  we  should 
take?  Let  the  tide  decide;  that  will  take  us  out  toward 
the  ocean  we  urged.  No,  we  are  drifting  into  another 
bay ;  that  cannot  be  where  we  want  to  go ;  why,  we 
are  drifting  right  back  almost  in  the  same  direction  from 
which  we  came,  but  into  another  bay.  We'll  pull  this 
way  to  that  point  to  the  northeast.  But  there  seems  a 
greater  opening  of  waters  to  the  northwest;  yes,  but 
I  do  not  see  any  way  out  there.  Neither  is  there  beyond 
that  point  (Johnson's  Point)  ;  and  so  we  talked  and 
pulled  and  puzzled  until  finally  it  dawned  upon  us  that 
the  tide  had  turned  and  we  were  being  carried  back  to 
almost  the  spot  from  whence  we  came,  into  South  bay. 

"Now  the  very  best  thing  we  can  do  is  to  camp,"  said 
the  senior  of  the  party  of  two,  to  which  the  junior,  your 
humble  writer,  readily  assented,  and  so  our  first  night's 
camp  was  scarcely  twelve  miles  from  where  we  had  started 
in  the  morning. 

What  a  nice  camping  place  this.  The  ladies  would 
say  lovely,  and  why  not?  A  beautiful  pebbly  beach 
that  extended  almost  to  the  water's  edge  even  at  low 


CRUISE   ON  PUGET   SOUND  105 

tide  with  a  nice  grassy  level  spit;  a  back  ground  of  ever- 
green giant  fir  timber;  such  clear  cool  water  gushing 
out  from  the  bank  near  by,  so  superlative  in  quality  as 
to  defy  word  to  adequately  describe ;  and  such  fuel  for 
the  camp  fire,  broken  fir  limbs  with  just  enough  pitch 
to  make  a  cheerful  blaze  and  yet  body  enough  to  last 
well.  Why,  we  felt  so  happy  that  we  were  almost  glad 
the  journey  had  been  interrupted.  Oliver  was  the  car- 
penter of  the  party,  the  tent  builder,  wood  getter,  and 
general  roust-a-bout,  to  coin  a  word  from  camp  parlance, 
while  I,  the  junior,  was  the  "chief  cook  and  bottle 
washer,"  as  the  senior  would  jocularly  put  it. 

At  the  point  a  little  beyond  where  we  landed  we  found 
next  morning  J.  R.  Johnson,  M.  D.,  with  his  cabin  on 
the  point  under  the  pretentious  name  of  "Johnson's* 
Hospital,"  opened  as  he  said  for  the  benefit  of  the  sick, 
but  which,  from  what  I  saw  in  my  later  trips  think  his 
greatest  business  was  in  disposing  of  cheap  whisky  of 
which  he  contributed  his  share  of  the  patronage. 

An  Indian  encampment  being  near  by,  a  party  of  them 
soon  visited  our  camp  and  began  making  signs  for  trade. 
"Mika  tik-eh  clams?"  came  from  out  the  mouth  of  one 
of  the  matrons  of  the  party  as  if  though  half  choked  in 
the  speaking,  a  cross  between  a  spoken  word  and  a 
smothered  guttural  sound  in  the  throat. 

"What  does  she  say,  Oliver?"  the  junior  said,  turning 
for  counsel  to  the  superior  wisdom  of  the  elder  brother. 

"I'm  blessed  if  I  know  what  she  says,  but  she  evi- 
dently wants  to  sell  some  clams." 

And  so,  after  considerable  dickering,  and  by  signs 
and  gestures  and  words  oft  repeated  we  were  able  to  im- 
part the  information  that  we  wanted  a  lesson  in  cookery ; 


106        VENTURES   AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

that  we  wanted  her  to  show  us  how  to  cook  them,  and 
that  we  would  buy  some.  This  brought  some  merriment 
in  the  camp.  The  idea,  that  there  lived  a  person  that 
did  not  know  how  to  cook  clams.  Without  saying  by 
your  leave  or  anything  else  the  motherly  looking  native 
began  tearing  down  our  camp  fire. 

"Let  her  alone,"  said  the  senior,  "and  see  what  she's 
up  to,"  noticing  that  the  younger  man  was  going  to 
remonstrate  against  such  an  interference  with  his  well 
laid  plans  for  bread  baking.  And  so  the  kitchen  of  the 
camp  was  surrendered  to  the  native  matron,  who  quietly 
covered  the  hot  pebbles  and  sand  where  the  fire  had  been, 
with  a  lighter  layer  of  pebbles,  upon  which  the  clams  were 
deposited  and  some  fine  twigs  placed  on  top,  upon  which 
£arth  was  deposited.  "K-1-o-s-h-e,"  said  the  matron. 
"Hy-as-kloshe,"  said  her  seignior,  who  sat  squatting 
watching  the  operation  with  evident  pride  upon  the 
achievement  of  his  dame. 

"What  did  they  say?"  innocently  inquired  the  jun- 
ior brother. 

"I  know  what  they  said,  but  I  don't  know  what  they 
meant,"  responded  the  elder  one,  "unless  it  was  she 
had  done  a  good  job,  which  I  think  she  has,"  and  thus 
began  and  ended  our  first  lesson  in  the  Chinook  jargon, 
and  our  first  introduction  to  a  clam  bake. 

What  memories  hover  around  these  three  words,  "the 
clam  bake."  Did  you  ever,  may  I  ask  my  readers,  other 
than  those  of  ye  older  times,  did  you  ever  participate 
in  the  joys  of  a  regular  old-fashioned  clam  bake,  with  or 
without  the  corn,  with  or  without  the  help  of  the  deft 
native  hand  ?  If  you  never  have,  then  go  straightway, 
before  you  die,  to  the  end  that  you  may  ever  after  have 


CRUISE  ON  PUGET   SOUND  107 

the  memory  of  the  first  clam  bake,  even  if  it  be  but  a 
memory,  and  likewise  be  the  last. 

Our  first  clam  bake  gave  us  great  encouragement.  We 
soon  learned  that  these  bivalves  were  to  be  found  in 
almost  unlimited  quantity,  and  were  widely  distributed; 
that  the  harvest  was  ready  twice  a  day,  when  the  tide 
was  out,  and  that  we  need  have  no  fear  of  a  famine  even 
if  cast  away  in  some  unfrequented  place. 

"Yah-ka  kloshe  al-ta,"  said  the  dame,  uncovering  the 
steaming  mass  and  placing  them  on  a  sliver  found  near 
by,  "de-late  kloshe;  kloshe  muck-a-muck  al-ta,"  and 
so,  without  understanding  what  she  said,  but  knowing 
well  what  she  meant,  we*  fell  to  in  disposing  of  this,  our 
first  clam  dinner. 

Dividing  with  them  the  bread  that  had  been  baked, 
and  some  potatoes  that  had  been  boiled,  the  natives  soon 
withdrew  to  their  own  camp,  where,  before  retiring  for 
the  night,  we  repaid  the  visit. 

To  see  the  little  fellows  of  the  camp  scud  behind  the 
mother  when  the  strangers  entered,  and  shyly  peep  out 
from  their  retreat,  and  the  mother  lovingly  reassuring 
them  with  kind,  affectionate  caresses,  and  finally  coax- 
ing them  out  from  under  cover,  revealed  the  character  of 
the  natives  we  had  neither  of  us  realized  before.  We  had 
been  in  the  Indian  country  for  nearly  a  year,  but  with 
guns  by  our  side  if  not  in  our  hands  for  nearly  half  th« 
time,  while  on  the  plains,  but  we  had  not  stopped  to 
study  the  Indian  character.  We  took  it  for  granted  that 
the  Indians,  were  our  enemies  and  watched  them  sus- 
piciously accordingly,  but  here  seemed  to  be  a  disposi- 
tion manifested  to  be  neighborly  and  helpful.  We  took 
a  lesson  in  Chinook,  and  by  signs  and  words  combined 


108        VENTURES   AND   ADVENTURES   OP   EZRA   MEEKER 

held  conversation  until  a  late  hour,  when,  upon  getting 
ready  for  taking  leave,  a  slice  of  venison  was  handed  us. 
sufficient  for  several  meals.  Upon  offering  to  pay  for 
it  we  were  met  with  a  shake  of  the  head,  and  with  the 
words,  "wake,  wake,  kul-tus-pot-latch, "  which  we  un- 
derstood by  their  actions  to  mean  they  made  us  a  present 
of  it. 

This  present  from  the  Indian  let  in  a  flood  of  light 
upon  the  Indian  character.  We  had  made  them  a  pres- 
ent first,  it  was  true,  but  we  did  not  expect  any  return, 
except  perhaps  good  will,  and  in  fact,  cannot  now  say 
we  particularly  expected  that,  but  were  impelled  to  do 
our  act  of  courtesy  from  the  manner  of  their  treatment 
and  from  the  evident  desire  to  be  on  friendly  terms.  From 
that  time  on  during  the  trip,  and  I  may  say,  for  all  time 
since.  I  have  found  the  Indians  of  Puget  Sound  ready 
to  reciprocate  acts  of  kindness,  and  hold  in  high  esteem 
a  favor  granted  if  not  accompanied  by  acts  apparently 
designed  to  simply  gain  an  advantage. 

We  often  forget  the  sharp  eyes  and  ears  of  little  chil- 
dren and  let  slip  words  that  are  quickly  absorbed  to 
their  hurt  by  affecting  their  conduct.  While  the  Indian 
is  really  not  a  suspicious  person,  nevertheless,  he  is  quick 
to  detect  and  as  quick  to  resent  a  real  or  supposed  slight 
as  the  little  five  year  old  who  discovers  his  elders  in 
their  fibs  or  deceit.  Not  that  the  Indian  expects  socially 
to  be  received  in  your  house  or  at  your  table,  yet  little 
acts  of  kindness,  if  done  without  apparent  design,  touch 
their  better  nature  and  are  repaid  more  than  a  hundred 
fold,  for  you  thereafter  have  a  friend  and  neighbor,  and 
not  an  enemy  or  suspicious  maligner. 

All  of  this  did  not  dawn  on  the  young  men  at  the  time, 


CRUISE   ON    PUGET    SOUND  109 

though  their  treatment  of  the  Indians  was  in  harmony 
with  friendly  feelings  which  we  found  everywhere  and 
made  a  lasting  impression. 

Subsequent  experience,  of  course,  has  confirmed  these 
first  impressions  with  the  wider  field  of  observation  in 
after  years,  while  employing  large  number  of  these  people 
in  the  hop  fields  of  which  I  hope  to  writer  later.  And  so 
now  must  end  this  chapter  with  the  subject  of  the 
''cruise"  to  be  continued  at  another  sitting. 


110        VENTURES   AND   ADVENTURES   OF   EZRA   MEEKER 

CHAPTER  XI. 

CRUISE   ON   PUGET    SOUND. 

"Keep  to  the  right,  as  the  law  directs,"  is  an  old 
western  adage  that  governs  travelers  on  the  road,  but 
we  kept  to  the  right  because  we  wanted  to  follow  the 
shore,  as  we  thought  it  safer,  and  besides,  why  not  go 
that  way  as  well  as  any  other, — it  was  all  new  to  us. 
So,  on  the  second  morning,  as  we  rounded  Johnson's 
Point  and  saw  no  channel  opening  in  any  direction ; 
saw  only  water  in  the  foreground  and  timber  beyond,  we 
concluded  to  skirt  the  coast  line  and  see  what  the  day 
would  bring  forth.  This  led  us  a  southeasterly  course 
and  in  part  doubling  back  with  that  traveled  the  pre- 
vious day,  and  past  what  became  the  historical  grounds 
of  the  Medicine  Creek  Treaty  council,  or,  rather  leav- 
ing this  two  miles  to  our  right  as  the  Nisqually  flats  were 
encountered.  Here  we  were  crowded  to  a  northerly  course 
leaving  the  Nisqually  House  on  the  beach  to  the  east 
without  stopping  for  investigation. 

According  to  Finlayson's  journal,  as  I  afterwards  as- 
certained, this  had  been  built  twenty-three  years  before. 
At  least,  some  house  had  been  built  on  this  spot  at  that 
time  (1829  or  1830),  though  the  fort  by  that  name  one- 
fourth  mile  back  from  the  water  was  not  constructed 
until  the  summer  of  1833,  just  twenty  years  previous  to 
our  visit. 

This  fort  mentioned  must  not  be  confounded  with  the 
Nisqually  fort  built  some  three  years  later  (1836)  a  mile 


CRUISE  ON  PUGET   SOUND  111 

farther  east  and  convenient  to  the  waters  of  Segwal- 
itchew  creek,  which  there  runs  near  the  surface  of  the 
surrounding  country.  All  remains  of  the  old  fort  have 
long  since  vanished,  but  the  nearly  filled  trenches  where 
the  stockade  timbers  stood  can  yet  be  traced,  showing 
that  a  space  250  feet  square  had  been  enclosed.  Another 
visible  sign  was  an  apple  tree  yet  alive  near  the  spot, 
grown  from  seed  planted  in  1833,  but  now,  when  I 
visited  the  place  in  June,  1903,  overshadowed  by  a  lusty 
fir  that  is  sapping  the  life  of  the  only  living,  though 
mute,  witness  (except  it  may  be  the  Indian,  Steilacoom) 
we  have  of  those  early  days,  when  the  first  fort  was  built 
by  the  intrepid  employes  of  the  Hudson  Bay  Company. 

An  interesting  feature  of  the  intervening  space  be- 
tween the  old  and  the  newer  fort  is  the  dense  growth 
of  fir  timber  averaging  nearly  two  feet  in  diameter  and 
in  some  cases  fully  three,  and  over  a  hundred  feet  high 
on  what  was  prairie  when  the  early  fort  builders  began 
work.  The  land  upon  which  this  timber  is  growing  still 
shows  unmistakable  signs  of  the  furrow  marks  that  can 
be  traced  through  the  forest.  Verily,  this  is  a  most  won- 
derful country  where  forest  product  will  grow,  if  prop- 
erly protected,  more  rapidly  than  the  hand  of  man  will 
destroy. 

As  the  tide  and  wind  favored  us  we  did  not  stop,  but 
had  not  proceeded  far  before  we  came  in  sight  of  a  fleet 
of  seven  vessels  lying  at  anchor  in  a  large  bay  of  several 
miles  in  extent. 

Upon  the  eastern  slope  of  the  shores  of  this  bay  lay 
the  two  towns,  Port  Steilacoom,  established  January  23rd, 
1851,  by  Captain  Lafayette  Balch  and  Steilacoom  City, 
upon  an  adjoining  land  claim  taken  by  John  B.  Chap- 


112   VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

man,  August  23rd,  of  same  year  and  later  held  by  his 
son,  John  M.  Chapman.  These  two  rival  towns  were 
built,  as  far  apart  as  possible  on  the  frontage  lands  of 
the  claim  owners  (about  one  mile  apart)  and  became 
known  locally  as  Upper  and  Lower  Steilacoom,  the  latter 
name  being  applied  to  Batch's  town. 

We  found  the  stocks  of  goods  carried  by  the  mer- 
chants of  these  two  towns  exceeded  those  held  by  the 
Olympia  merchants,  and  that  at  Fort  Nisqually,  six 
miles  distant,  the  merchandise  carried  by  the  Puget 
Sound  Agricultural  Company  would  probably  equal  that 
of  all  three  of  the  towns  combined,  possibly,  in  the  ag- 
gregate, over  one  hundred  thousand  dollars  for  the  whole 
district  under  review. 

Evidently  a  far  larger  trade  centered  on  Steilacoom 
Bay  and  vicinity  than  at  any  other  point  we  had  seen 
and,  as  we  found  afterwards,  than  any  other  point  on 
Puget  Sound.  Naturally  we  would  here  call  a  halt  to 
examine  the  country  and  to  make  ourselves  acquainted 
with  the  surroundings  that  made  this  early  center  of 
trade. 

One  mile  and  a  half  back  from  the  shore  and  east 
of  lower  Steilacoom,  Ave  found  what  was  by  courtesy 
called  Fort  Steilacoom,  but  which  was  simply  a  camp 
of  a  company  of  United  States  soldiers,  in  wooden  shells 
of  houses  and  log  cabins.  This  camp,  or  fort,  had  been 
established  by  Captain  Bennett  H.  Hill  with  Company 
M,  1st  Artillery,  August  27th,  1849,  following  the  at- 
tempted robbery  of  Fort  Nisqually  the  previous  May 
by  Pat  Kanim  and  his  followers,  the  Snoqualmie  In- 
dians. 

Dr.  Tolmie,  Chief  Factor  of  the  Puget  Sound  Agri- 


CRUISE  ON  PUGET   SOUND  113 

cultural  Company  at  Fort  Nisqually,  quickly  seized  the 
opportunity  to  demand  rent  from  the  United  States  for 
the  occupancy  of  the  site  of  Fort  Steilacoom,  of  six  hun- 
dred dollars  a  year,  and  actually  received  it  for  fifteen 
years  and  until  the  final  award  was  made  extinguishing 
the  claims  of  his  company.  We  found  the  plains  alive 
with  this  company's  stock  (many  thousand  head)  run- 
ning at  large  and  fattened  upon  the  scant  but  nutritious 
grass  growing  upon  the  adjacent  prairie  and  glade  lands. 

Balch  and  Webber  were  doing  a  thriving  trade  in 
their  store  at  the  little  town  of  Steilacoom,  besides  their 
shipping  trade  of  piles  and  square  timber,  shingles, 
lumber,  cord  wood,  hides,  furs,  fish,  and  other  odds  and 
ends.  Just  across  the  street  from  their  store  stood  the 
main  hotel  of  the  place  with  the  unique  history  of  being 
the  only  building  erected  on  Puget  Sound  from  lumber 
shipped  from  the  eastern  seaboard.  Captain  Balch 
brought  the  building  with  him  from  Maine,  ready  to 
set  up.  At  the  upper  town  Philip  Keach  was  merchan- 
dising while  Abner  Martin  kept  a  hotel.  Intense  rivalry 
ran  between  the  two  towns  in  the  early  days  when  we 
were  at  Steilacoom. 

Thomas  M.  Chambers,  father  of  the  prominent  mem- 
bers of  the  Olympia  community  of  that  name,  had  built  a 
saw-mill  on  Steilacoom  creek,  two  miles  from  the  town 
and  a  grist  mill  where  farmers  oftentimes  came  with  peb- 
bles in  their  wheat  to  dull  the  burrs. 

We  are  wont  now  to  speak  of  this  place  as  "poor  old 
Steilacoom,"  with  its  tumbled-down  houses,  rotting 
sidewalks  and  decayed  wharves,  the  last  vesitage  of  the 
latter  of  which  has  disappeared;  but  then  everything 
was  new,  with  an  air  of  business  bustle  that  made  one 


Ill         VENTURES    AND   ADVENTURES   OF   EZRA   MEEKER 

feel  here  was  a  center  of  trade.  The  sight  of  those  seven 
vessels  lying  in  the  offing  made  a  profound  impression 
upon  our  minds.  "We  had  never  before  seen  so  many 
ships  at  one  place  as  were  quietly  lying  at  anchor  in 
front  of  the  embyro  city.  Curiously  enough,  here  was 
the  very  identical  vessel  we  had  first  seen  on  the  Willam- 
ette River,  the  bark  ''Mary  Melville,"  with  her  gruff 
mate  and  the  big  hearted  master,  Capt.  Barston,  with 
whom  the  reader  has  been  made  acquainted  in  a 
previous  chapter.  I  took  no  special  note  of  the  names 
of  these  vessels  other  than  this  one,  but  from  the  columns 
of  the  Columbian  I  am  able  to  glean  the  names  of  twenty- 
two  vessels,  brigs,  bars,  and  schooners,  then  plying  be- 
tween Puget  Sound  and  San  Francisco,  which  are  as 
follows : 

Brig  Cyclops,  Perkins;  Bark  Delegate,  ;  Brig 

Tarquina,  ;  Bark  John  Adams,   McKelmer;   Brig 

G.  W.  Kendall,  Gove;  Brig  Merchantman,  Bolton;  Brig 
Kingsbury,  Cook;  Schooner  Cynosure,  Fowler;  Brig 
George  Emery,  Diggs ;  Bark  Mary  Melville,  Barston ;  Bark 
Brontes,  Blinn ;  Bark  Sarah  Warren,  Gove ;  Ship  Persia, 
Brown ;  Brig  I.  C.  Cabot,  Dryden ;  Brig  Jane,  Willett ; 

Ship  Rowena, ;  Brig  Willingsly,  Gibbs;  Brig  Mary 

Dare,  Mowatt ;  Brig  John  Davis,  Pray ;  Bark  Carib,  Plum- 
mer;  Brig  Leonesa,  Howard,  and  Schooner  Franklin, 
Leary.  There  were  probably  more,  but  I  do  not  recall 
them,  but  these  were  enough  to  keep  every  man  busy 
that  could  swing  an  axe,  drag  a  saw  or  handle  that  instru- 
ment of  torture,  the  goad  stick,  and  who  was  willing  to 
work. 

All  this  activity  came  from  the  shipment  of  piles, 
square    timbers,    cordwood,    shingles,    with    small    quan- 


CRUISE  ON  PUGET   SOUND  115 

tities  of  lumber — all  that  was  obtainable,  which  was  not 
very  much,  to  the  San  Francisco  market.  The  descent  of 
timber  on  the  roll-ways  sounded  like  distant  thunder, 
and  could  be  heard  almost  all  hours  of  the  day,  even 
where  no  camps  were  in  sight,  but  lay  hidden  up  some 
secluded  bay  or  inlet. 

We  were  sorely  tempted  to  accepted  the  nattering  of- 
fer of  $4.00  each  day  for  common  labor  in  a  timber 
camp,  but  soon  concluded  not  to  be  swerved  from  the 
course  we  had  outlined. 

It  was  here,  and  I  think  at  this  time,  I  saw  the  Indian 
"Steilacoom,"  who  still  lives.  I  saw  him  recently  at  his 
camp  in  the  Nisqually  bottom,  and  judge  he  is  border- 
ing on  ninety  years.  Steilacoom  helped  to  build  old 
Fort  Nisqually  in  1833,  and  was  a  married  man  at  that 
time.  People  called  him  chief  because  he  happened  to 
bear  the  name  adopted  for  the  town  and  creek,  but  he 
was  not  a  man  of  much  force  of  character  and  not  much 
of  a  chief.  I  think  this  is  a  remarkable  case  of  longevity 
for  an  Indian.  As  a  race,  they  are  short  lived.  It  was 
here,  and  during  this  visit,  we  began  seeing  Indians  in 
considerable  numbers.  Off  the  mouth  of  the  Nisqually 
and  several  places  along  the  beach  and  floating  on  the 
bay  we  saw  several  hundred  in  the  aggregate  of  all 
ages  and  kind.  There  seemed  to  be  a  perfect  abandon  as 
to  care  or  thought  for  the  future,  or  even  as  to  the  imme- 
diate present,  literally  floating  with  the  tide.  In  those 
days,  the  Indians  seemed  to  work  or  play  by  spurts  and 
spells.  Here  and  there  that  day  a  family  might  be  seen 
industriously  pursuing  some  object,  but  as  a  class  there 
seemed  to  be  but  little  life  in  them,  and  we  concluded 
they  were  the  laziest  set  on  earth.     I  afterwards  mater- 


UU        VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

ially  modified  that  opinion,  as  I  became  better  ac- 
quainted with  their  habits,  for  I  have  found  just  as  in- 
dustrious Indians,  both  men  and  women,  and  as  reliable 
workers,  as  among  the  whites  though  this  class,  it  may 
be  said,  is  exceptional  with  the  men.  The  women  are 
all  industrious. 

Shall  we  camp  here  and  spy  out  the  land,  or  shall  we 
go  forward  and  see  what  lay  before  us?  Here  were  the 
ideals,  that  had  enticed  us  so  far  from  our  old  home, 
where  "ships  went  down  into  the  sea,"  with  the  trade 
of  the  whole  world  before  us.  We  waxed  eloquent, 
catching  inspiration  from  people  of  the  town.  After  a 
second  sober  thought  we  found  we  had  nothing  to  trade 
but  labor,  and  we  had  not  come  this  far  to  be  laborers 
for  hire.  We  had  come  to  look  up  a  place  to  make  a 
farm  and  a  farm  we  were  going  to  have.  We,  therefore 
set  about  searching  for  claims,  and  the  more  we  searched 
the  less  we  liked  the  looks  of  things. 

The  gravelly  plains  near  Steilacoom  would  not  do ; 
neither  the  heavy  fir  timber  lands  skirting  the  waters  of 
the  Sound,  and  we  were  nonplussed  and  almost  ready  to 
condemn  the  country.  Finally,  on  the  fourth  day  after 
a  long,  wearisome  tramp,  we  cast  off  at  high  tide,  and 
in  a  dead  calm,  to  continue  our  cruise.  The  senior  soon 
dropped  into  a  comfortable  afternoon  nap,  leaving  me 
in  full  command.  As  the  sun  shone  nice  and  warm  and 
the  tide  was  taking  us  rapidly  in  the  direction  we  wanted 
to  go,  why  not  join,  even  if  we  did  lose  the  sight  seeing 
for  which  the  journey  was  made. 

I  was  shortly  after  aroused  by  the  senior  exclaiming, 
"What  is  that?"  and  then  answering  half  to  himself  and 
half  to  me,  "Why,  as  I  live,  it's  a  deer  swimming  way  out 


CRUISK  ON   PUGET   SOUND  117 

here  in  the  bay."  Answering,  half  asleep  and  half  awake, 
that  that  could  not  be,  the  senior  said:  "Well,  that's 
what  it  is."  We  gave  chase  and  soon  succeeded  in  get- 
ting a  rope  over  its  horns.  We  had  by  this  time  drifted 
into  the  Narrows,  and  soon  found  that  we  had  some- 
thing more  important  to  look  after  than  towing  a  deer 
among  the  tide-rips  of  the  Sound,  and  turning  him  loose 
pulled  for  dear  life  for  the  shore,  and  found  shelter  in 
an  eddy.  A  perpendicular  bluff  rose  from  the  high  water 
mark,  leaving  no  place  for  a  camp  fire  or  bed.  The  tide 
seemed  to  roll  in  waves  and  with  contending  forces  of 
currents,  and  counter  currents,  yet  all  moving  in  a  gen- 
eral direction.  It  was  our  first  introduction  to  a  real 
genuine,  live  tide-rip,  that  seemed  to  harry  the  waters 
as  if  boiling  in  a  veritable  caldron,  swelling  up  here  and 
there  in  centers  to  whirl  in  dizzy  velocity  and  at  times 
break  into  a  foam,  and,  where  a  light  breeze  prevailed, 
into  spray.  Then  in  some  areas  would  seem  the  waters 
in  solid  volume  would  leap  up  in  conical,  or  pointed 
shape — small  waves  broken  into  short  sections,  that 
would  make  it  quite  difficult  for  a  flat  bottom  boat  like 
our  little  skiff  to  float  very  long.  We  congratulated 
ourselves  upon  the  escape,  while  belittling  our  careless 
imitation  of  the  natives  of  floating  with  the  tide.  Just 
then  some  Indian  canoes  passed  along  moving  with  the 
tide.  We  expected  to  see  them  swamped  as  they  en- 
countered the  troubled  waters,  but  to  our  astonishment 
they  passed  right  through  without  taking  a  drop  of 
water.  Then  here  came  two  well  manned  canoes  creep- 
ing along  shore  against  the  tide.  I  have  said  well-man- 
ned, but  in  fact,  half  the  paddles  were  wielded  by  wom- 
en,  and    the    post    of  honor,   or  that  where  most  dex- 


118   VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES  OP  EZRA  MEEKER 

terity  was  required,  was  occupied  by  a  woman.  In  shore, 
short  eddies  would  favor  the  party,  to  be  ended  by  a 
severe  tug  against  the  stiff  current. 

"Me-si-ka-kwass  kopa  s'kookum  chuck,"  said  the 
maiden  in  the  bow  of  the  first  canoe,  as  it  drew  along 
side  our  boat,  in  which  we  were  sitting. 

Since  our  evening's  experience  at  the  clam  bake  camp, 
we  had  been  industriously  studying  language,  and  pretty 
well  mastered  the  chinook,  and  so  we  with  little 
difficulty  understood  her  to  ask  if  we  were  afraid  of  the 
rough  waters,  to  which  we  responded,  part  in  English 
and  part  in  Chinook,  that  we  were,  and  besides  that  it 
was  impossible  for  us  to  proceed  against  the  strong  cur- 
rent. 

"Ne-si-ka  mit-lite,"  that  is  to  say,  she  said  they  were 
going  to  camp  with  us  and  wait  for  the  turn  of  the  tide, 
and  accordingly  landed  near  by,  and  so  we  must  wait  for 
the  remainder  of  this  story  in  chapters  to  follow. 


CRUISE   ON  PUGET   SOUND  119 

CHAPTER  XII. 

CRUISE  ON  PUGET  SOUND. 

By  the  time  the  tide  had  turned,  night  had  come  and 
we  were  in  a  quandary  as  to  what  to  do ;  whether  to 
camp  in  our  boat,  or  to  start  out  on  unknown  waters 
in  the  dark.  Our  Indian  visitors  began  making  prepara- 
tions to  proceed  on  their  journey,  and  assured  us  it  was 
all  right  ahead,  and  offered  to  show  us  the  way  to  good 
camping  grounds  in  a  big  bay  where  the  current  was 
not  strong,  and  where  we  would  find  a  great  number  of 
Indians  in  camp. 

It  did  not  occur  to  us  to  have  any  fear  of  the  Indians. 
We  did  not  at  all  depend  on  our  prowess  or  personal 
courage,  but  felt  that  we  were  among  friends.  We  had 
by  this  time  come  to  know  the  general  feeling  existing 
between  Indians  and  whites,  and  that  there  was  no 
trouble,  as  a  class,  whatever  there  might  be  as  to  indi- 
viduals. I  do  not  want  my  reader  to  understand  we 
thought  we  were  doing  an  heroic  act  in  following  a 
strange  party  of  Indians  into  unknown  waters  and  into 
an  unknown  camp  of  the  natives  after  dark,  or  that  I 
think  so  now.  There  was  no  danger  ahead  of  us  other 
than  that  incident  to  the  attempt  of  navigating  such 
waters  with  so  frail  a  boat,  and  one  so  unsuited  in  shape 
as  well  as  build,  for  rough  waters,  and  by  persons  so 
inexperienced  on  the  water. 

Sure  enough,  a  short  pull  with  a  favorable  current, 
brought  us  through   the   Narrows   and   into   Commence- 


120        VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

ment  Bay  and  in  sight  of  numerous  camp  fires  in  the 
distance.  Our  Indian  friends  lazily  paddled  along  in 
company,  while  we  labored  vigorously  with  our  oars 
as  we  were  by  this  time  in  a  mood  to  find  a  camp  where 
we  could  have  a  fire  and  prepare  some  food.  I  remember 
that  camp  quite  vividly,  though  cannot  locate  it  exactly, 
but  know  that  it  was  on  the  water  front  within  the 
present  limits  of  the  City  of  Tacoma.  A  beautiful  small 
rivulet  came  down  a  ravine  and  spread  out  on  the  beach, 
and  I  can  remember  the  shore  line  was  not  precipitous 
and  that  it  was  a  splendid  camping  ground.  The  par- 
ticular thing  I  do  remember  is  our  supper  of  fresh  sal- 
mon. Of  all  the  delicious  fish  known,  give  me  the  salmon 
caught  by  trolling  in  early  summer  in  the  deep  waters 
of  Puget  Sound ;  so  fat  that  the  excess  of  oil  must  be 
turned  out  of  the  pan  while  cooking.  We  had  not  then 
learned  the  art  of  cooking  on  the  spit,  or  at  least,  did  not 
practice  it.  "We  had  scarcely  gotten  our  camp  fire  under 
way  before  a  salmon  was  offered  us,  but  I  cannot  recall 
what  we  paid,  but  I  know  it  was  not  a  high  price,  else 
we  would  not  have  purchased.  At  the  time  we  did  not 
know  but  trolling  in  deep  water  for  this  king  of  fish  was 
the  only  way,  but  afterwards  learned  of  the  enormous 
quantities  taken  by  the  seine  direct  from  salt  water. 

Two  gentlemen,  Messrs.  Swan  and  Riley,  had  estab- 
lished themselves  on  the  bay,  and  later  in  the  season 
reported  taking  two  thousand  large  fish  at  one  haul  with 
their  seine,  three-fourths  of  which  were  salmon.  As  I 
have  a  fish  story  of  my  own  to  tell  of  our  experience 
later,  I  will  dismiss  the  subject  for  the  present. 

We  were  now  in  the  bay,  since  made  famous  in  history 
by  that    observing    traveler,    Theodore    Winthrop,    who 


CRUISE  ON  PUGET   SOUND  121 

came  from  the  north  a  few  months  later,  and  saw  the 
great  mountain,  "a  cloud  compeller,"  reflected  in  the 
placid  waters  of  the  Sound,  "Tacoma"*  as  he  wrote, 
Rainier,  as  we  saw  it.  A  beautiful  sight  it  was  and  is, 
whatever  the  name,  but  to  us  it  was  whatever  others 
said  it  was,  while  Winthrop,  of  a  poetic  mind,  was  on 
the  alert  for  something  new  under  the  sun,  if  it  be  no 
more  than  a  name  for  a  great  mountain. 

Winthrop  came  in  September,  while  we  were  in  the 
bay  in  June,  thus  ante-dating  his  trip  by  three  months 
or  more.  To  Winthrop  belongs  the  honor  of  originating 
the  name  Tacoma  from  some  word  claimed  to  have  been 
spoken  by  the  Indians  as  the  name  of  the  mountain. 
As  none  of  the  pioneers  ever  heard  the  word  until  many 
years  afterwards,  and  not  then  until  after  the  post- 
humous publication  of  Winthrop 's  works  ten  years  after 
his  visit,  I  incline  to  the  opinion  that  Winthrop  coined 
the  word  out  of  his  imaginative  brain. 

We  again  caught  sight  of  the  mountain  the  next  day, 
as  we  approached  the  tide  flats  off  the  mouth  of  the 
Puyallup  River.  We  viewed  the  mountain  with  awe 
and  admiration,  but  gave  no  special  heed  to  it,  more  than 


*Winthrop,  in  his  delightful  book,  "The  Canoe  and  the  Saddle," 
describing-  his  trip  from  Port  Townsend  to  Nisqually,  in  September, 
1853,  says: 

"We  had  rounded  a  point  and  opened  Puyallup  Bay,  a  breath  of 
sheltered  calmness,  when  I,  lifting  sleepy  eyelids  for  a  dreamy  stare 
about,  was  suddenly  aware  of  a  vast  white  shadow  in  the  water. 
What  cloud,  piled  massive  on  the  horizon,  could  cast  an  image  so 
sharp  in  outline,  so  full  of  vigorous  detail  of  surface?  No  cloud, 
as  my  stare,  no  longer  dreamy,  presently  discovered — no  cloud,  but 
a  cloud  compeller.  It  was  a  giant  mountain  dome  of  snow,  swelling 
and  seeming  to  fill  the  aerial  spheres  as  its  image  displaced  the  blue 
deeps  of  tranquil  water.  The  smoky  haze  of  an  Oregon  August  hid 
all  the  length  of  its  lesser  ridges,  and  left  this  mighty  summit  based 
upon  uplifting  dimness.  Only  its  splendid  snows  were  visible,  high 
in  the  unearthly  regions  of  blue  noonday  sky.  The  shore  line  drew 
a  cincture  of  pines  across  its  broad  base,  where  it  faded  unreal  into 
the  mist.     The  same  dark  girth  separated  the  peak  from  its  reflection. 


122        VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

to  many  other  new  scenes  engaging  our  attention.  It 
was  land  we  wanted  whereby  we  might  stake  a  claim, 
and  not  scenery  to  tickle  our  fancy.  Yet,  I  doubt  if  there 
lives  a  man,  or  ever  did,  who  has  seen  that  great  moun- 
tain, but  has  been  inspired  with  higher  thoughts,  and  we 
may  say  higher  aspirations,  or  who  has  ever  tired  look- 
ing upon  this  grand  pile,  the  father  of  five  great  rivers. 

We  floated  into  the  mouth  of  the  Puyallup  River  with 
a  vague  feeling  as  to  its  value,  but  did  not  proceed  far 
until  we  were  interrupted  by  a  solid  drift  of  monster 
trees  and  logs,  extending  from  bank  to  bank  up  the  river 
for  a  quarter  of  a  mile  or  more.  We  were  told  by  the 
Indians  there  were  two  other  like  obstructions  a  few 
miles  farther  up  the  river,  and  that  the  current  was  "de- 
late-hyas-skoo-kum,"  which  interpreted  means  that  the 
current  was  very  strong.  We  found  this  to  be  literally 
true  during  the  next  two  or  three  days  we  spent  on  the 
river. 

We  secured  the  services  of  an  Indian  and  his  canoe 
to  help  us  up  the  river,  and  left  our  boat  at  the  Indian's 
camp  near  the  mouth. 

The  tug  of  two  days  to  get  six  miles  up  the  river,  the 
unloading  of  our  outfit  three  times  to  pack  it  over  cut- 
off trails,   and   the   dragging   of   our   canoe   around   the 


over  which  my  canoe  was  now  pressing,  and  sending  wavering  swells 
to  scatter  the  beautiful  vision  before  it. 

"Kingly  and  alone  stood  this  majesty,  without  any  visible  con- 
sort, though  far  to  the  north  and  to  the  south  its  brethren  and 
sisters  dominated  their  realms,  each  in  isolated  sovereignty,  rising 
from  the  pine-darkened  sierra  of  the  Cascade  Mountains — above  the 
stern  chasm  where  the  Columbia,  Achilles  of  rivers,  sweeps,  short 
lived  and  jubilant,  to  the  sea — above  the  lovely  valley  of  the  Wil- 
lamette and  Ningua.  Of  all  the  peaks  from  California  to  Frazier 
River,  this  one  was  royalest.  Mount  Regnier,  Christians  have 
dubbed  it  in  stupid  nomenclature,  perpetuating  the  name  of  some- 
body or  nobody.  More  melodiously  the  Siwashes  call  it  Tacoma — a 
generic  term,  also  applied  to  all  snow  peaks." 


CRUISE  ON  PUGET   SOUND  123 

drifts,  is  a  story  of  constant  toil  with  consequent  dis- 
couragement, not  ending  until  we  camped  on  the  bank  of 
the  river  within  the  present  limits  of  the  little  thriving 
city  of  Puyallup,  founded  afterwards  by  me  on  a  home- 
stead claim  taken  many  years  later.  The  little  city  now 
contains  over  six  thousand  inhabitants,  and  is  destined 
to  contain  many  thousand  more  in  the  lapse  of  time. 

The  Puyallup  valley  at  that  time  was  a  solitude.  No 
white  settlers  were  found,  though  it  was  known  two, 
who  lived  with  Indian  women,  had  staked  claims  and 
made  some  slight  improvements— a  man  by  the  name  of 
Hayward,  near  where  the  town  of  Sumner  is  now  lo- 
cated, and  William  Benson,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
river,  and  a  mile  distant  from  the  boundaries  of  Puy- 
allup. An  Indian  trail  led  up  the  river  from  Commence- 
ment Bay,  and  one  westward  to  the  Nisqually  plains, 
over  which  pack  animals  could  pass,  but  as  to  wagon 
roads,  there  were  none,  and  as  to  whether  a  feasible 
route  for  one  could  be  found  only  time  with  much  labor 
could  determine. 

When  we  retraced  our  steps,  and  on  the  evening  of  the 
third  day  landed  again  at  the  mouth  of  the  river  after  a 
severe  day's  toil  of  packing  around  drifts  and  hauling 
the  canoe  overland  past  drifts,  it  was  evident  we  were 
in  no  cheerful  mood.  Oliver  did  not  sing  as  usual  while 
preparing  for  camp,  or  rally  with  sallies  of  wit  and 
humor  as  he  was  wont  to  do  when  in  a  happy  mood. 
Neither  did  I  have  much  to  say,  but  fell  to  work  mechan- 
ically preparing  the  much  needed  meal,  which  we  ate 
in  silence,  and  forthwith  wrapped  ourselves  in  our 
blankets  for  the  night,  but  not  for  immediate  slumber. 

We  had  crossed  the  two  great  states  of  Illinois  and 


124        VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES   OP  EZRA  MEEKER 

Iowa,  over  hundreds  of  miles  of  unoccupied  prairie  land 
as  rich  as  anything  that  "ever  laid  out  of  doors,"  on  our 
way  from  Indiana  to  Oregon,  in  search  of  land  on  which 
to  make  a  home,  and  here,  at  what  we  might  say  "at  the 
end  of  our  rope"  had  found  the  land,  but  under  such 
adverse  conditions  that  seemed  almost  too  much  to  over- 
come. It  was  a  discouraging  outlook,  even  if  there  had 
been  roads.  Such  timber !  It  seemed  an  appalling  un- 
dertaking to  clear  it,  the  greater  portion  being  covered 
with  a  heavy  growth  of  balm  and  alder  trees,  and  thick 
tangle  of  underbrush  besides,  and  so,  when  we  did  fall 
to  sleep  that  night,  it  was  without  visions  of  new  found 
wealth. 

And  yet,  later,  I  did  tackle  a  quarter  section  of  that 
heaviest  timber  land,  and  never  let  up  until  the  last  tree, 
log,  stump,  and  root  disappeared,  though  of  course,  not 
all  of  it  by  my  own  hands.  Nevertheless,  with  a  goodly 
part,  I  did  say  come,  boys,  and  went  into  the  thickest 
of  the  work. 

But.  of  the  time  of  which  I  am  writing,  there  were 
more  to  consider  than  the  mere  clearing,  which  we  esti- 
mated would  take  thirteen  years  of  solid  work  for  one 
man  to  clear  a  quarter  section ;  the  question  of  going 
where  absolutely  there  were  no  neighbors,  no  roads,  no 
help  to  open  them,  and  in  fact,  without  a  knowledge  as 
to  whether  a  feasible  route  could  be  found,  compelled  us 
to  decide  against  locating. 

A  small  factor  came  in  to  be  considered.  Such  swarms 
of  mosquitoes  we  had  never  seen  before.  These  we  felt 
would  make  life  a  burden,  forgetting  that  as  the  country 
became  opened  they  would  disappear.  I  may  relate  here 
a  curious  phenomenon  brought  to  light  by  after  exper- 


CRUISE   ON   PUGET   SOUND  125 

ience.  My  donation  claim  was  finally  located  on  high 
table  land,  where  no  surface  water  could  be  found  in 
summer  for  miles  around,  and  there  were  swarms  of 
mosquitoes,  while  on  the  Puyallup  homestead  taken 
later,  six  miles  from  the  mouth  of  the  river,  and  where 
water  lay  on  the  surface,  in  spots,  the  whole  summer 
long-,  we  seldom  saw  one  of  these  pests  there.  I  never 
could  account  for  this,  and  have  long  since  ceased  to  try; 
I  only  know  it  was  so. 

If  we  could  have  but  known  what  was  coming  four 
months  later,  doubt  not,  notwithstanding  our  discour- 
agement, we  would  have  remained  and  searched  the 
valley  diligently  for  the  choicest  locations.  In  October 
following,  there  came  the  first  immigrants  that  ever 
crossed  the  Cascade  Mountains,  and  located  in  a  body 
nearly  all  of  the  whole  valley,  and  before  the  year  was 
ended  had  a  rough  wagon  road  out  to  the  prairies  and  to 
Steilacoom,  the  county  seat. 

As  I  will  give  an  account  of  the  struggles  and  trials 
of  these  people  later  in  this  work,  I  will  here  dismiss 
the  subject  by  saying  that  no  pioneer  who  settled  in  the 
Puyallup  valley,  and  stuck  to  it,  failed  finally  to  prosper 
and  gain  a  competence. 

We  lingered  at  the  mouth  of  the  river  in  doubt  as  to 
what  best  to  do.  My  thoughts  went  back  to  the  wife  and 
baby  in  the  lonely  cabin  on  the  Columbia  River,  and  then 
again  to  that  bargain  we  had  made  before  marriage 
that  we  were  going  to  be  farmers,  and  how  could  we  be 
farmers  if  we  did  not  have  the  land?  Under  the  dona- 
tion act  we  could  hold  three  hundred  and  twenty  acres, 
but  we  must  live  on  it  for  four  years,  and  so  it  behooved 
us  to  look  out  and  secure  our  location  before  the  act  ex- 


126   VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES  OP  EZRA  MEEKER 

pired,  which  would  occur  the  following  year.  So,  with 
misgivings  and  doubts,  we  finally,  on  the  fourth  day, 
loaded  our  outfit  into  our  skiff  and  floated  out  on  the 
receding  tide,  whither,  we  did  not  know. 


CRUISE   ON   PUGET   SOUND  127 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

CRUISE    ON    PUGET    SOUND. 

As  we  drew  off  on  the  tide  from  the  mouth  of  the 
Puyallup  River,  numerous  parties  of  Indians  were  in 
sight,  some  trolling  for  salmon,  with  a  lone  Indian  in 
the  bow  of  his  canoe,  others  with  a  pole  with  barbs  on 
two  sides  fishing  for  smelt,  and  used  in  place  of  a  pad- 
dle, while  again,  others  with  nets,  all  leisurely  pursuing 
their  calling,  or  more  accurately  speaking,  seemed  wait- 
ing for  a  fisherman's  luck.  Again,  other  parties  were 
passing,  singing  a  plaintive  ditty  in  minor  key  with  two 
or  more  voices,  accompanied  by  heavy  stroke  of  the 
paddle  handle  against  the  side  of  the  canoe,  as  if  to  keep 
time.  There  were  really  some  splendid  female  voices  to 
be  heard,  as  well  as  male,  and  though  there  were  but 
slight  variations  in  the  sounds  or  words,  they  seemed 
never  to  tire  in  repeating,  and,  I  must  confess,  we  never 
tired  listening.  Then,  at  times,  a  break  in  the  singing 
would  be  followed  by  a  hearty  laugh,  or  perhaps  a  salu- 
tation be  given  in  a  loud  tone  to  some  distant  party, 
which  would  always  bring  a  response,  and  with  the  re- 
sumption of  the  paddles,  like  the  sailors  on  the  block  and 
fall,  the  song  would  be  renewed,  oftentimes  to  bring 
back  a  distant  echo  from  a  bold  shore.  These  scenes 
were  repeated  time  and  again,  as  we  encountered  the 
natives  in  new  fields  that  constantly  opened  up  to  our 
view. 

We  laid  our  course  in  the  direction  the  tide  drew  us, 


128        VENTURES   AND  ADVENTURES   OP  EZRA  MEEKER 

directly  to  the  north  in  a  channel  three  miles  in  width, 
and  discarded  the  plan  of  following  the  shore  line,  as 
we  found  so  little  variation  in  the  quality  of  soil.  By 
this  time  we  began  to  see  that  opportunity  for  farms  on 
the  immediate  shores  of  Puget  Sound  were  few  and  far 
between — in  fact,  we  had  seen  none.  During  the  after- 
noon and  after  we  had  traveled,  by  estimate,  near  twenty 
miles,  we  saw  ahead  of  us  larger  waters,  where,  by  con- 
tinuing our  course,  we  would  be  in  a  bay  of  five  or  six 
miles  in  width,  with  no  very  certain  prospect  of  a  camp- 
ing place.  Just  then  we  spied  a  cluster  of  cabins  and 
houses  on  the  point  to  the  east,  and  made  a  landing  at 
what  proved  to  be  Alki  Point,  the  place  then  bearing  the 
pretentious  name  of  New  York. 

We  were  not  any  too  soon  in  effecting  our  landing, 
as  the  tide  had  turned  and  a  slight  breeze  had  met  it, 
the  two  together  disturbing  the  water  in  a  manner  to 
make  it  uncomfortable  for  us  in  our  flat  bottomed  boat. 

Here  we  met  the  irrepressible  C.  C.  Terry,  proprietor 
of  the  new  townsite,  but  keenly  alive  to  the  importance 
of  adding  to  the  population  of  his  new  town.  But  we 
were  not  hunting  townsites,  and  of  course  lent  a  deaf 
ear  to  the  arguments  set  forth  in  favor  of  the  place. 

Captain  William  Renton  had  built  some  sort  of  a  saw- 
mill there,  had  laid  the  foundation  to  his  great  fortune 
accumulated  later  at  Port  Blakely,  a  few  miles  to  the 
west,  to  which  point,  he  later  removed.  Terry  after- 
wards gave  up  the  contest,  and  removed  to  Seattle. 

We  soon  pushed  on  over  to  the  east  where  the  steam 
from  a  saw-mill  served  as  the  guiding  star,  and  landed 
at  a  point  that  cannot  have  been  far  removed  from  the 


CRUISE   ON  PUGET   SOUND  129 

west  limit  of  the  present  Pioneer  Place  of  Seattle,  near 
where  the  totem  pole  now  stands. 

Here  we  found  the  never  to  be  forgotten  Yesler,  not 
whittling  his  pine  stick  as  in  later  years,  but  as  a  wide 
awake,  business  man,  on  the  alert  to  drive  a  trade  when 
an  opportunity  offered,  or  spin  a  yarn,  if  perchance  time 
would  admit.  I  cannot  recall  meeting  Mr.  Denny, 
though  I  made  his  acquaintance  soon  after  at  my  own 
cabin  on  McNeil's  Island.  In  fact,  we  did  not  stay  very 
long  in  Seattle,  not  being  very  favorably  impressed  with 
the  place.  There  was  not  much  of  a  town,  probably 
twenty  cabins  in  all,  with  a  few  newer  frame  houses. 
The  standing  timber  could  scarcely  have  been  farther 
removed  than  to  be  out  of  reach  of  the  mill,  and  of 
course,  scarcely  the  semblance  of  a  street.  The  lagoon 
presented  an  uninviting  appearance  and  scent,  where  the 
process  of  filling  with  slabs  and  saw  dust  had  already 
begun.  The  mill,  though,  infused  activity  in  its  imme- 
diate vicinity,  and  was  really  the  life  of  the  place. 

As  we  were  not  looking  for  a  millsite  or  a  townsite. 
we  pushed  on  north  the  next  day.  We  had  gone  but 
a  few  miles  until  a  favorable  breeze  sprang  up,  bringing 
with  it  visions  of  a  happy  time  sailing,  but  with  the 
long  stretch  of  open  waters  back  of  us  of  ten  miles,  or 
more,  and  of  several  miles  in  width,  and  with  no  visible 
shelter  ahead  of  us,  or  lessening  of  width  of  waters,  we 
soon  felt  the  breeze  was  not  so  welcome  after  all.  We 
became  doubtful  as  to  the  safety  of  sailing,  and  were  by 
this  time  aware  of  the  difficulty  of  rowing  a  small,  flat 
bottom  boat  in  rough  waters  with  one  oar  sometimes  in 
the  water  and  the  other  in  the  air,  to  be  suddenly  re- 
versed.    While  the  wind  was  in  our  favor,  yet  the  boat 


130   VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES  OP  EZRA  MEEKER 

became  almost  unmanageable  with  the  oars.  The  sail 
once  down  was  not  so  easy  to  get  up  again,  with  the  boat 
tipping  first  one  way  and  then  another,  as  she  fell  off 
in  the  trough  of  the  waves.  But  finally,  the  sail  was  set 
again,  and  we  scudded  before  the  wind  at  a  rapid  rate, 
not  feeling  sure  of  our  bearings,  or  what  was  going  to 
happen.  The  bay  looked  to  us  as  if  it  might  be  five 
miles  or  more  wide,  and  in  fact,  with  the  lowering 
weather,  we  could  not  determine  the  extent.  The  east 
shore  lay  off  to  our  right  a  half  a  mile  or  so  distant, 
where  we  could  see  the  miniature  waves  break  on  the 
beach,  and  at  times  catch  the  sound  as  they  rolled  up  on 
the  gravel  banks.  We  soon  realized  our  danger,  but 
feared  to  attempt  a  landing  in  the  surf.  Evidently  the 
wind  was  increasing,  the  clouds  were  coming  down  lower 
and  rain  began  to  fall.  There  was  but  one  thing  to  do. 
We  must  make  a  landing,  and  so  the  sail  was  hastily 
taken  down  again,  and  the  junior  of  the  party  took  to 
the  oars,  while  the  senior  sat  in  the  stern  with  paddle 
in  hand  to  keep  the  boat  steady  on  her  course,  and  help 
a  little  as  opoortunity  offered.  But  fortune  favored  us 
in  luckily  finding  a  smooth  pebbly  beach,  and  while  we 
got  a  good  drenching  in  landing,  and  the  boat  partially 
filled  before  we  could  haul  her  up  out  of  reach  of  the 
surf,  yet  we  lost  nothing  outright,  and  suffered  but 
slight  loss  by  damage  from  water.  We  were  glad  enough 
to  go  ashore  and  thankful  that  the  mishap  was  no  worse. 
Luckily  our  matches  were  dry  and  a  half  hour  or  so  suf- 
ficed to  build  a  rousing  camp  fire,  haul  our  boat  above 
high  tide,  to  utilize  it  as  a  wind  break  and  roof  turned 
bottom  up  at  an  angle  of  forty-five  degrees.  Just  how 
long  we  were  compelled  to  remain  in  this  camp,  I  cannot 


CRUISE   ON  PUGET   SOUND  131 

recall,  but  certainly  two  days,  and  I  think  three,  but  we 
did  not  explore  the  adjacent  land  much,  as  the  rain  kept 
us  close  in  camp.  And  it  was  a  dismal  camp,  although 
we  had  plenty  to  eat  and  could  keep  dry  and  warm.  We 
here  practiced  the  lesson  taught  us  the  evening  of  our 
first  camp,  by  the  native  matron,  and  had  plenty  of  clams 
to  supplement  our  other  provisions  during  the  whole 
period,  and  by  the  time  we  broke  up  camp,  concluded  we 
were  expert  clam-bakers.  But  all  such  incidents  must 
have  an  end,  and  so  the  time  came  when  we  broke  camp 
and  pulled  for  the  head  of  Whidby's  Island,  a  few  miles 
off  to  the  northwest. 

And  now,  I  have  a  fish  story  to  tell.  I  have  always 
been  shy  of  telling  it,  lest  some  smart  one  should  up 
and  say  I  was  just  telling  a  yarn  and  drawing  on  my 
imagination,  but,  "honor  bright,"  I  am  not.  But  to  be 
sure  of  credence,  I  will  print  the  following  telegram 
recently  received,  which,  as  it  is  printed  in  a  newspaper, 
must  be  true : 

Nanaimo,  B.  C,  Friday,  Jan.  29. — "Another  tremen- 
dous destruction  of  herring  occurred  on  the  shores  of 
Protection  Island  a  day  or  two  ago  in  exactly  the  same 
way  as  took  place  near  Departure  Bay  about  three  weeks 
ago,  and  today  the  entire  atmosphere  of  the  city  carries 
the  nauseous  smell  of  thousands  upon  thousands  of  tons  of 
decaying  fish  which  threatens  an  epidemic  of  sickness. 

The  dead  fish  now  cover  the  shores  of  Protection 
Island  continuously  for  three  miles  to  a  depth  ranging 
all  the  way  from  fifteen  inches  to  three  feet.  The  air 
is  black  with  sea  gulls.  So  thick  have  the  fish  been  at 
times   that  were  a   fishing  boat  caught  in   the   channel 


132   VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES  OP  EZRA  MEEKER 

while  a  shoal  of  herring  was  passing,  the  rush  of  fish 
would  literally  lift  the  boat  out  of  the  water." 

We  had  not  proceeded  far  before  we  heard  a  dull 
sound  like  that  often  heard  from  the  tide-rips  where 
the  current  meets  and  disturbs  the  waters  as  like  in  a 
boiling  caldron.  But  as  we  approached  the  disturb- 
ance, we  found  it  was  different  from  anything  we 
had  seen  or  heard  before.  As  we  rested  on  our  oars,  Ave 
could  see  that  the  disturbance  was  moving  up  toward  us, 
and  that  it  extended  as  far  as  we  could  see  .  in  the  direc- 
tion we  were  going.  The  sound  had  increased  and  be- 
came as  like  the  roar  of  a  heavy  rainfall,  or  hailstorm 
in  water,  and  we  became  aware  that  it  was  a  vast  school 
of  fish  moving  south,  while  millions  were  seemingly  danc- 
ing on  the  surface  of  the  water  and  leaping  in  the  air. 
We  could  sensibly  feel  them  striking  against  the  boat  in 
such  vast  numbers  as  to  fairly  move  it  as  we  lay  at  ease. 
The  leap  in  the  air  was  so  high  as  to  suggest  tipping  the 
boat  to  catch  some  as  they  fell  back,  and  sure  enough, 
here  and  there  one  would  leap  into  the  boat.  We  soon 
discovered  some  Indians  following  the  school,  who 
quickly  loaded  their  canoes  by  using  the  barbed  pole  as 
a  paddle  and  throwing  the  impaled  fish  into  their  canoes 
in  surprising  numbers.  We  soon  obtained  all  we  wanted 
by  an  improvised  net. 

We  were  headed  for  Whidby's  Island,  where,  it  was 
reported,  rich  prairie  land  could  be  found.  The  bay 
here  at  the  head  of  the  island  was  six  or  seven  miles  wide 
and  there  was  no  way  by  which  we  could  keep  near  shore. 
Remembering  the  experience  of  a  few  days  before,  in 
waters  not  so  large  as  here,  the  younger  of  the  two  con- 
fided  his   fears   to    his    older    companions,   that  it  was 


CRUISE  ON   PUGET   SOUND  133 

unwise  to  loiter  and  fish,  howsoever  novel  and  inter- 
esting, and  so  began  pulling  vigorously  at  the  oars  to 
find  himself  greatly  embarrassed  by  the  mass  of  fish 
moving  in  the  water.  So  far  as  we  could  see  there  was  no 
end  to  the  school  ahead  of  us,  the  water,  as  far  as  the 
eye  could  reach,  presenting  the  appearance  shown  with  a 
heavy  fall  of  hail.  It  did  seem  at  times,  as  if  the  air  was 
literally  filled  with  fish,  but  we  finally  got  rid  of  the 
moving  mass,  and  reached  the  island  shore  in  safety, 
only  to  become  again  weather  bound  in  an  uninhabited 
district  of  country  that  showed  no  signs  of  the  handi- 
work of  civilized  man. 


134   VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

CRUISE   ON   PUGET    SOUND. 

This  camp  did  not  prove  so  dreary  as  the  last  one, 
though  more  exposed  to  the  swell  of  the  big  waters  to 
the  north,  and  sweep  of  the  wind.  To  the  north  we  had 
a  view  of  thirty  miles  or  more,  where  the  horizon  and 
water  blend,  leaving  one  in  doubt  whether  land  was  in 
sight  or  not,  though  as  we  afterwards  ascertained,  our 
vision  could  reach  the  famous  San  Juan  Island,  later 
the  bone  of  contention  between  our  government  and 
Great  Britain.  Port  Townsend  lay  some  ten  miles  north- 
erly from  our  camp,  but  was  shut  out  from  view  by  an 
intervening  headland.  Marrowstone  point  lay  about 
midway  between  the  two,  but  we  did  not  know  the  exact 
location  of  the  town,  or  for  that  matter,  of  our  own.  We 
knew,  like  the  lost  hunters,  where  we  were,  but  the 
trouble  was,  we  "didn't  know  where  any  place  else  was;" 
not  lost  ourselves,  but  the  world  was  lost  from  us.  In 
front  of  us,  the  channel  of  Admiralty  Inlet,  here,  but 
about  four  miles  wide,  stretched  out  to  the  north  into  a 
fathomless  sea  of  waters  that  for  aught  we  knew,  opened 
into  the  wide  ocean.  Three  ships  passed  us  while  at 
this  camp,  one,  coming  as  it  would  seem  from  out  of 
space,  a  mere  speck,  to  a  full-fledged,  deep-sea  vessel, 
with  all  sails  set,  scudding  before  the  wind  and  passing 
up  the  channel  past  us  on  the  way  to  the  anchorage  of 
the  seven  vessels,  the  other  two  gracefully  beating  their 
way  out  against  the  stiff  breeze  to  the  open  waters  be- 


CRUISE  ON  PUGET   SOUND  135 

yond.  "What  prettier  sight  can  one  see  than  a  full-rigged 
vessel  with  all  sails  spread,  either  beating  or  sailing 
before  the  wind?  Our  enthusiasm,  at  the  sight,  knew  no 
bounds;  we  felt  like  cheering,  clapping  our  hands,  or 
adopting  any  other  method  of  manifesting  our  pleas- 
ure. We  had,  as  a  matter  of  prudence,  canvassed 
the  question  of  returning  from  this  camp  as  soon 
as  released  from  this  stress  of  weather,  to  the  bay  of 
the  anchored  ships  in  the  more  southern  waters,  but  the 
sight  of  these  ships,  and  the  sight  of  this  expanse  of 
waters,  coupled  with  perhaps  a  spirit  of  adventure, 
prompted  us  to  quietly  bide  our  time  and  to  go  farther, 
when  released. 

When  I  look  back  upon  that  decision,  and  in  fact, 
upon  this  whole  incident  of  my  life,  I  stand  amazed  to 
think  of  the  rashness  of  our  actions  and  of  the  danger 
encountered  from  which  we  escaped.  Not  but  two  men 
with  proper  appliances,  and  with  ripe  experience,  might 
with  perfect  security  make  just  such  a  trip,  but  we  were 
possessed  of  neither  and  ran  the  great  risks  accordingly. 

It  was  a  calm,  beautiful  day  when  we  reached  Port 
Townsend,  after  a  three  hours'  run  from  our  camp  on 
the  island.  As  we  rounded  Marrowstone  Point,  near 
four  miles  distant,  the  new  village  came  into  view.  A 
feeling  of  surprise  came  over  us  from  the  supposed  mag- 
nitude of  the  new  town.  Distance  lends  enchantment,  the 
old  adage  says,  but  in  this  case  the  nearer  we  approached 
the  embryo  city,  the  greater  our  admiration.  The  beauti- 
ful, pebbly  beach  in  front,  the  clear,  level  spot  adjoin- 
ing, with  the  beautiful  open  and  comparatively  level 
plateau  in  the  background,  and  with  two  or  three  vessels 
at  anchor  in  the  foreground,  there  seemed  nothing  lack- 


1J6        VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES   OP  EZRA  MEEKER 

ing  to  complete  the  picture  of  a  perfect  city  site.  The 
contrast  was  so  great  between  the  ill-smelling  lagoon 
of  Seattle  or  the  dismal  extensive  tide  flats  of  Olympia, 
that  our  spirits  rose  almost  to  a  feeling  of  exulta- 
tion, as  the  nose  of  our  little  craft  grounded  gently  on 
the  beach.  Poor,  innocent  souls,  we  could  not  see  be- 
yond to  discover  that  cities  are  not  built  upon  pleasure 
grounds,  and  that  there  are  causes  beyong  the  ken  of 
man  to  fathom  the  future  destiny  of  the  embryo  towns 
of  a  new   commonwealth. 

"We  found  here  the  enthusiastic  Plummer,  the  plod- 
ding Pettygrove  and  the  industrious,  enterprising  Hast- 
ings, jointly  intent  upon  building  up  a  town,  "the  great- 
est shipping  port  on  the  coast,"  as  they  were  nearest 
possible  to  the  sea,  while  our  Olympia  friends  had  used 
exactly  the  opposite  arguments  favoring  their  locality, 
as  "we  are  the  farthest  possible  inland,  where  ships  can 
come."  Small  wonder  that  land-lubbers  as  we  were 
should  become  confused. 

Another  confusing  element  that  pressed  upon  our 
minds,  was  the  vastness  of  the  waters  explored,  and  that 
we  now  came  to  know  were  yet  left  unexplored.  Then 
Puget  Sound  was  looked  upon  as  anchorage  ground  from 
the  Straits  on  the  north  to  Budd's  Inlet  on  the  south,  for- 
getting, or  rather  not  knowing,  of  the  extreme  depth 
of  waters  in  many  places.  Then  that  wonderful  stretch 
of  shore  line  of  sixteen  hundred  miles,  with  its  forty  or 
more  islands  of  from  a  few  acres  in  extent  to  thirty  miles 
of  length,  with  the  aggregate  area  of  waters  of  several 
hundred  square  miles,  exclusive  of  the  Straits  of  Fuca 
and    Gulf    of    Georgia.      All    these    marvels    gradually 


CRUISE   ON   PUGET   SOUND  i:rr 

dawned  upon  our  minds  as  we  looked  and  counseled, 
forgetting  for  the  time  the  imminent  risks  we  were  taking. 

Upon  closer  examination  of  the  little  town,  we  found 
our  first  impression  from  the  distance  illusory.  Many 
shacks  and  camps,  at  first  mistaken  for  the  white  men's 
houses,  were  found  to  be  occupied  by  the  natives,  a 
drunken,  rascally  rabble,  spending  their  gains  from  the 
sale  of  fish  and  oil  in  a  debauch  that  would  last  as  long 
as  their  money  was  in  hand. 

This  seemed  to  be  a  more  stalwart  race  of  Indians, 
stronger  and  more  athletic,  though  strictly  of  the  class 
known  as  fish  Indians,  but  better  developed  than  those 
to  the  south,  from  the  buffeting  received  in  the  larger 
waters  of  the  Straits,  and  even  out  in  the  open  sea  in 
their  fishing  excursions  with  canoes,  manned  by  thirty 
or  more  men. 

The  next  incident  of  the  trip  that  I  can  remember 
is  when  we  were  pulling  for  dear  life  to  make  a  landing 
in  front  of  Colonel  Ebey's  cabin,  on  Whidby's  Island, 
opposite  Port  Townsend.  We  were  carried  by  the  rapid 
current  quite  a  way  past  the  landing,  in  spite  of  our 
utmost  efforts.  It  would  be  a  serious  thing  to  be  unable 
to  land,  as  we  were  now  in  the  open  waters,  with  a  fifteen- 
mile  stretch  of  the  Straits  of  Fuca  before  us.  I  can 
remember  a  warm  greeting  at  the  hands  of  Ebey,  the 
first  time  I  had  ever  seen  him.  He  had  a  droll  stoppage 
in  his  speech  that  at  first  acquaintance  would  incline 
one  to  mirth,  but  after  a  few  moments'  conversation  such 
a  feeling  would  disappear.  Of  all  the  men  we  had  met 
on  the  whole  trip,  Colonel  Ebey  made  the  most  lasting 
impression.  Somehow,  what  he  did  say  came  with  such 
evident  sincerity  and  sympathy,  and  with  such  an  unaf- 


138   VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

fected  manner,  that  we  were  drawn  close  to  him  at  once. 
It  was  while  living  in  these  same  cabins  where  we  visited 
him,  that  four  years  later  the  northern  Indians,  from 
British  Columbia,  came  and  murdered  him  and  carried 
off  his  head  as  a  trophy  in  their  savage  warfare. 

We  spent  two  or  three  days  in  exploring  the  island, 
only  to  find  all  the  prairie  land  occupied,  but  I  will  not 
undertake  from  memory  to  name  the  settlers  we  found 
there.  From  our  acquaintance,  and  from  published  re- 
ports, I  came  to  know  all  of  them,  but  do  not  now  recall 
a  single  individual  adult  alive  who  was  there  then ;  a 
striking  illustration  of  having  outlived  the  most  of  my 
generation. 

Somehow,  our  minds  went  back  to  the  seven  ships 
we  had  seen  at  anchor  in  front  of  Steilacoom;  to  the 
sound  of  the  timber  camps ;  to  the  bustle  and  stir  of  the 
little,  new  village ;  to  the  greater  activities  that  we  saw 
there  than  anywhere  else  on  the  waters  of  the  Sound, 
and  likewise  my  thoughts  would  go  beyond  to  the  little 
cabin  on  the  Columbia  River,  and  the  little  wife  domi- 
ciled there,  and  the  other  little  personage,  and  so  when 
we  bade  Colonel  Ebey  good-bye,  it  was  the  signal  to 
make  our  way  as  speedily  as  possible  to  the  waters  of  the 
seven  ships. 

Three  days  sufficed  to  land  us  back  in  the  coveted 
bay  with  no  greater  mishap  than  getting  off  our  course 
into  the  mouth  of  Hood's  Canal,  and  being  lost  another 
half  day,  but  luckily  going  on  the  right  course,  the  while. 

But,  lo  and  behold,  the  ships  were  gone.  Not  a  sail- 
ing craft  of  any  kind  was  in  sight  of  the  little  town, 
but  the  building  activity  continued.  The  memory  of 
those    ships,    however,    remained    and    determined    our 


CRUISE  ON  PUGET   SOUND  139 

minds  as  to  the  important  question  where  the  trade 
center  was  to  be,  and  that  we  would  look  farther  for  the 
coveted  spot  upon  which  to  make  a  home. 

I  look  back  with  amazement  at  the  rash  undertaking 
of  that  trip,  so  illy  provided,  and  inexperienced,  as  we 
were,  and  wonder  that  we  escaped  with  no  more  serious 
mishap  than  we  had.  We  were  not  justified  in  taking 
these  chances,  or  at  least  I  was  not,  with  the  two  de- 
pendents left  in  the  cabin  on  the  bank  of  the  Columbia 
River,  but  we  did  not  realize  the  danger  until  we  were 
in  it,  and  hence  did  not  share  in  the  suspense,  and  un- 
easiness of  that  one  left  behind.  Upon  the  whole,  it  was 
a  most  enjoyable  trip,  and  one,  barring  the  risk  and 
physical  inability  now  to  play  my  part,  I  could  with  great 
enjoyment  encounter  the  same  adventure  of  which  I  have 
only  related  a  mere  outline.  Did  you  ever,  reader,  take 
a  drive,  we  will  say  in  a  hired  outfit,  with  a  paid  coach- 
man, and  then  take  the  lines  in  your  own  hands  by  way 
of  contrast?  If  so,  then  you  will  realize  the  thrill  of 
enjoyment  where  you  pull  your  own  oars,  sail  your  own 
craft,  cook  your  own  dinner,  and  lie  in  your  own  bed 
of  boughs,  and  go  when  and  where  you  will  with  that 
keen  relish  incident  to  the  independence  and  uncertain- 
ties of  such  a  trip.  It  was  a  wild,  reckless  act,  but  we 
came  out  stronger  than  ever  in  the  faith  of  the  great 
future  in  store  for  the  north  country,  where  we  finally 
made  our  home  and  where  I  have  lived  ever  since,  now 
over  fifty-seven  years. 


140        VENTURES   AND   ADVENTURES   OF   EZRA   MEEKER 

CHAPTER   XV. 

FROM    COLUMBIA    RIVER    TO    PUGET    SOUND. 

"Can  I  get  home  to-night?"  I  asked  myself,  while 
the  sun  was  yet  high  one  afternoon  of  the  last  week  of 
June  (1853). 

I  was  well  up  river,  on  the  left  bank  of  the  Cowlitz. 
I  could  not  tell  how  far,  for  there  were  no  milestones, 
or  way  places  to  break  the  monotony  of  the  crooked, 
half  obstructed  trail  leading  down  stream.  I  knew  that 
at  the  best  it  would  be  a  race  with  the  sun,  for  there  were 
many  miles  between  me  and  the  cabin,  but  the  days  were 
long,  and  the  twilight  longer,  and  I  would  camp  that 
much  nearer  home  if  I  made  haste.  My  pack  had  been 
discarded  on  the  Sound;  I  did  not  even  have  either 
coat  or  blanket.  The  heavy,  woolen  shirt,  often  worn 
outside  the  pants,  will  be  well  remembered  by  my  old- 
time  pioneer  readers.  Added  to  this,  the  well  worn 
slouch  hat,  and  worn  shoes,  both  of  which  gave  ample 
ventilation,  completed  my  dress ;  socks,  I  had  none, 
neither  suspenders ;  the  improvised  belt  taking  their  place, 
and  so  I  was  dressed  suitable  for  the  race,  and  was  eager 
for  the  trial. 

I  had  parted  with  my  brother  at  Olympia,  where  he 
had  come  to  set  me  that  far  on  my  journey;  he  to  re- 
turn to  the  claims  we  had  taken,  and  I  to  make  my  way 
across  country  for  the  wife  and  baby,  to  remove  them 
to  our  new  home.  I  did  not  particularly  mind  the  camp- 
ing so  much  if  necessary,   but   did  not   fancy  the   idea 


FROM    COLUMBIA   RIVER   TO   PUGET    SOUND  141 

of  lying  out  so  near  home,  if  I  could  by  extra  exertion 
reach  the  cabin  that  night.  I  did  not  have  the  friendly 
ox  to  snug  up  to  for  warmth,  as  in  so  many  bivouacs, 
while  on  the  plains,  but  I  had  matches,  and  there  were 
many  mossy  places  for  a  bed  and  friendly  shelter  of  the 
drooping  cedars.  We  never  thought  of  "catching  cold," 
by  lying  on  the  ground  or  on  cedar  boughs,  or  from 
getting  a  good  drenching.  Somehow  it  did  seem  I  was 
free  from  all  care  of  bodily  ailment,  and  could  endure 
continued  exertion  for  long  hours  without  the  least  in- 
convenience. The  readers  of  this  generation  doubtless 
will  be  ready  to  pour  out  their  sympathy  for  the  hard- 
ships of  the  lonely  trail,  and  lone  camp,  and  the  supper- 
less  bed  of  boughs,  but  they  may  as  well  reserve  this  for 
others  of  the  pioneers  whose  systems  were  less  able  to 
bear  the  unusual  strain  of  the  new  conditions.  But  the 
camp  had  to  be  made;  the  cabin  could  not  be  reached, 
for  the  trail  could  not  be  followed  at  night,  nor  the 
Kalama  Creek  crossed ;  so,  slackening  my  pace  at  night- 
fall to  gradually  cool  my  system,  I  finally  made  my  camp 
and  slept  as  sound  as  if  on  a  bed  of  down,  with  the  con- 
solation that  the  night  was  short  and  that  I  could  see 
to  travel  by  3  o'clock,  and  it  did  not  make  so  very  much 
difference,  after  all. 

I  can  truly  say  that  of  all  those  years  of  camp  and 
cabin  life,  I  do  not  look  upon  them  as  years  of  hardship. 
To  be  sure,  our  food  was  plain  as  well  as  dress,  our  hours 
of  labor  long  and  labor  frequently  severe,  and  that  the 
pioneers  appeared  rough  and  uncouth,  yet  underlying 
all  this,  there  ran  a  vein  of  good  cheer,  of  hopefulness, 
of  the  intense  interest  always  engendered  with  strife  to 
overcome  difficulties  where  one  is  the  employer  as  well 


142   VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES  OP  EZRA  MEEKER 

as  the  employed.  We  never  watched  for  the  sun  to  go 
down,  or  for  the  seven  o'clock  whistle,  or  for  the  boss  to 
quicken  our  steps,  for  the  days  were  always  too  short, 
and  interest  in  our  work  always  unabated. 

The  cabin  could  not  be  seen  for  a  long  distance  on 
the  trail,  but  I  thought  I  caught  sight  of  a  curl  of  smoke 
and  then  immediately  knew  I  did,  and  that  settled  it 
that  all  was  well  in  the  cabin.  But  when  a  little  nearer, 
a  little  lady  in  almost  bloomer  dress  was  espied  milk- 
ing a  cow,  and  a  frisking,  fat  calf  in  the  pen  was  seen, 
then  I  knew,  and  all  solicitude  vanished.  The  little 
lady  never  finished  milking  that  cow,  nor  did  she 
ever  milk  others  when  the  husband  was  at  home,  though 
she  knew  how  well  enough,  and  never  felt  above  such 
work  if  a  necessity  arose,  but  we  parceled  out  duties  on 
a  different  basis,  with  each  to  their  suited  parts.  The 
bloom  on  the  cheek  of  the  little  wife,  the  baby  in  the 
cabin  as  fat  as  the  calf,  told  the  story  of  good  health 
and  plentitude  of  food,  and  brought  good  cheer  with  the 
welcome  home.  The  dried  potato  eyes  had  just  been 
planted,  although  it  was  then  the  first  week  of  July,  fol- 
lowing the  receding  waters  of  the  June  freshet  up  the 
Columbia,  and  were  sprouting  vigorously.  I  may  say, 
in  passing,  there  came  a  crop  from  these  of  nearly  four 
hundred  bushels  at  harvest  time. 

It  did  seem  there  were  so  many  things  to  talk  about 
that  one  could  scarcely  tell  where  to  begin  or  when  to 
stop.  Why,  at  Olympia,  eggs  were  a  dollar  a  dozen.  I 
saw  them  selling  at  that.  That  butter  you  have  there 
on  the  shelf  would  bring  a  dollar  a  pound  as  fast  as 
you  could  weigh  it  out;  I  saw  stuff  they  called  butter 
sell    for   that;    then    potatoes    were    selling    for    $3.00    a 


FROM   COLUMBIA   RIVER    TO    PUGET    SOUND  143 

bushel  and  onions  at  $4.00.  Everything  the  farmer 
raises  sells  high.  "Who  buys?"  "Oh,  almost  everybody 
has  to  buy;  there's  the  ships  and  the  timber  camps,  and 
the  hotels,  and  the — 

"Where  do  they  get  the  money?" 

"Why,  everybody  seems  to  have  money.  Some  take 
it  there  with  them.  Then  men  working  in  the  timber 
camps  get  $4.00  a  day  and  their  board.  I  saw  one  place 
where  they  paid  $4.00  a  cord  for  wood  to  ship  to  San 
Francisco,  and  one  can  sell  all  the  shingles  he  can  make 
at  $4.00  a  thousand,  and  I  was  offered  5  cents  a  foot  for 
piles.  If  we  had  Buck  and  Dandy  over  there  we  could 
make  twenty  dollars  a  day  putting  in  piles." 

"Where  could  you  get  the  piles?" 

"Off  the  government  land,  of  course.  All  help  them- 
selves to  all  they  want.  Then  there  are  the  fish,  and  the 
clams,  and  the  oysters,  and — " 

"But  what  about  the  land  for  a  claim?" 

That  question  was  a  stumper.  The  little  wife  never 
lost  sight  of  that  bargain  made  before  we  were  married, 
that  we  were  going  to  be  farmers ;  and  here  now  I  found 
myself  praising  a  country  I  could  not  say  much  for  its 
agricultural  qualities,  but  other  things  quite  foreign  to 
that  interest. 

But  if  we  could  sell  produce  higher,  might  we  not 
well  lower  our  standard  of  an  ideal  farm?  The  claim  I 
had  taken  was  described  with  a  tinge  of  disappointment, 
falling  so  far  below  in  quality  of  what  we  had  hoped  to 
acquire,  and  still  adhering  to  the  resolution  to  be  farm- 
ers, we  began  the  preparations  for  removal  to  the  Sound. 

The  wife,  baby,  bedding,  ox  yoke,  and  log  chain  were 
sent  up  the  Cowlitz  in  a  canoe,  while  Buck  and  Dandy 


144   VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

and  I  renewed  onr  acquaintance  by  taking  to  the  trail 
where  we  had  our  parting  bivouac.  We  had  camped  to- 
gether many  a  night  on  the  plains,  and  slept  together 
literally,  not  figuratively.  I  used  to  crowd  up  close  under 
Buck's  back  while  napping  on  watch,  for  the  double  pur- 
pose of  warmth  and  signal — warmth  while  at  rest,  signal 
if  the  ox  moved.  On  this  occasion  I  was  illy  prepared  for 
a  cool  night  camp,  having  neither  blanket,  nor  coat,  as 
I  had  expected  to  reach  "Hard-Bread's"  Hotel,  where 
the  people  in  the  canoe  would  stop  over  night.  But  I 
could  not  make  it  and  so  again  laid  on  the  trail  to  renew 
the  journey  bright  and  early  the  next  morning. 

Hard  Bread's  is  an  odd  name  for  a  hotel,  you  will 
say;  so  it  is,  but  the  name  grew  out  of- the  fact  that 
Gardner,  the  old  widower  that  kept  "bachelor's"  hall 
at  the  mouth  of  Toutle  River,  fed  his  customers  on  hard 
tack  three  times  a  day,  if  perchance  any  one  was  unfor- 
tunate enough  to  be  compelled  to  take  their  meals  at 
his  place. 

I  found  the  little  wife  had  not  fared  any  better  than 
I  had  on  the  trail,  and,  in  fact,  not  so  well,  for  the  floor 
of  the  cabin  was  a  great  deal  harder  than  the  sand  spit 
where  I  had  passed  the  night,  with  plenty  of  pure,  fresh 
air,  while  she,  in  a  closed  cabin,  in  the  same  room  with 
many  others,  could  neither  boast  of  fresh  air,  nor  free- 
dom from  creeping  things  that  make  life  miserable. 
With  her  shoes  for  a  pillow,  a  shawl  for  covering,  small 
wonder  the  report  came  "I  did  not  sleep  a  wink  last 
night." 

Judge  Olney  and  wife  were  passengers  in  the  same 
canoe  and  guests  at  the  same  house  with  the  wife,  as 
also  Prank   Clark,  who  afterwards  played   a  prominent 


FROM  COLUMBIA  RIVER  TO  PUGET  SOUND  145 

part  at  the  bar,  and  in  the  political  affairs  of  Pierce 
County  in  particular,  and  incidentally  of  the  whole  Terri- 
tory. 

We  soon  arrived  at  the  Cowlitz  landing,  and  at  the 
end  of  the  canoe  journey,  so,  striking  the  tent  that  had 
served  us  so  well  on  the  plains,  and  with  a  cheerful  camp 
fire  blazing  for  cooking,  speedily  forgot  the  experience 
of  the  trail,  the  cramped  passage  in  the  canoe,  the  hard 
bread,  dirt  and  all,  while  enjoying  the  savory  meal,  the 
like  of  which  only  the  expert  hands  of  the  ladies  of  the 
plains  could  prepare. 

But  now  we  had  fifty  miles  of  land  to  travel  before 
us,  and  over  such  a  road !  Words  cannot  describe  that 
road,  and  so  I  will  not  try.  One  must  have  traveled  it 
to  fully  comprehend  what  it  meant.  However,  we  had 
one  consolation,  and  that  was  it  would  be  worse  in 
winter  than  at  that  time.  We  had  no  wagon.  Our 
wagon  had  been  left  at  the  Dalles,  and  we  never  saw 
nor  heard  of  it  again.  Our  cows  were  gone — given  for 
provender  to  save  the  lives  of  the  oxen  during  the  deep 
December  snow,  and  so  when  we  took  account  of  stock, 
we  had  Buck  and  Dandy,  the  baby,  and  a  tent,  an  ox 
yoke  and  chain,  enough  clothing  and  bedding  to  keep 
us  comfortable,  with  but  very  little  food  and  no  money — 
that  had  all  been  expended  on  the  canoe  passage. 

Shall  we  pack  the  oxen  and  walk,  and  carry  baby, 
or  shall  we  build  a  sled  and  drag  our  things  over  to  the 
Sound,  or  shall  I  make  an  effort  to  get  a  wagon?  This 
latter  proposition  was  the  most  attractive,  and  so  next 
morning,  driving  Buck  and  Dandy  before  me,  leaving  the 
wife  and  baby  to  take  care  of  the  camp,  the  search  for 
a  wagon  began. 


14G        VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES   OP  EZRA  MEEKER 

That  great  hearted,  old  pioneer,  John  R.  Jackson,  did 
not  hesitate  a  moment,  stranger  as  I  was,  to  say  "Yes, 
you  can  have  two  if  you  need  them."  Jackson  had  set- 
tled eight  years  before,  ten  miles  out  from  the  land- 
ing, and  had  an  abundance  around  him,  and  like  all 
those  earlier  pioneers,  took  a  pride  in  helping  others 
who  came  later.  Retracing  the  road,  night  found  me 
again  in  camp,  and  all  hands  happy,  but  Jackson  would 
not  listen  to  allowing  us  to  proceed  the  next  day  any 
farther  than  his  premises,  where  he  would  entertain  us 
in  his  comfortable  cabin,  and  send  us  on  our  way  the 
morning  following,  rejoicing  in  plenty. 

Without  special  incident  or  accident,  we  in  due  time 
arrived  at  the  foot  of  the  falls  of  the  Deschutes  (Turn- 
water),  and  on  the  shore  of  Puget  Sound.  Here  camp 
must  be  established  again ;  the  little  wife  and  baby  left 
while  I  drove  the  wagon  over  the  tedious  road  to  Jack 
son's  and  then  returned  with  the  oxen  to  tide  water. 

The  reader  may  well  imagine  my  feelings,  when,  upon 
my  return,  my  tent,  wife,  baby,  and  all  were  gone.  We 
knew  before  I  started  on  my  return  trip  that  smallpox 
was  raging  among  the  Indians,  and  that  a  camp  where 
this  disease  was  prevalent  was  in  sight  less  than  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  away.  The  present-day  reader  must 
remember  that  dread  disease  had  terrors  then  that,  since 
universal  vaccination,  it  does  not  now  possess.  Could 
it  be  possible  my  folks  had  been  taken  sick  and  had 
been  removed?  The  question,  however,  was  soon  solved. 
I  had  scarcely  gotten  out  of  sight  upon  my  trip  before 
one  of  those  royal  pioneer  matrons  came  to  the  camp  and 
pleaded   and  insisted   and  finally  almost  frightened   the 


PROM  COLUMBIA  RIVER  TO  PUGET  SOUND  147 

little  wife  to  go  and  share  her  house  with  her  which  was 
near  by,  and  be  out  of  danger  from  the  smallpox. 

And  that  was  the  way  we  traveled  from  the  Columbia 
River  to  Puget  Sound. 

God  bless  those  earlier  pioneers;  they  were  all  good 
to  us,  sometimes  to  the  point  of  embarrassment  by  their 
generous  hospitality. 

I  cannot  dismiss  this  subject  without  reverting  to 
one  such,  in  particular,  who  gave  his  whole  crop  during 
the  winter  of  which  I  have  just  written,  to  start  immi- 
grants on  the  road  to  prosperity,  and,  in  some  instances, 
to  prevent  suffering. 

In  consequence  of  the  large  immigration  and  in- 
creased demand,  prices  of  provisions  had  run  sky  high, 
and  out  of  reach  of  some  of  the  recent  immigrants  with 
large  families.  George  Bush  had  squatted  on  a  claim 
seven  miles  south  of  Olympia,  in  1845,  and  had  an  abun- 
dance of  farm  produce,  but  would  not  sell  a  pound  of 
anything  to  a  speculator;  but  to  immigrants,  for  seed 
or  for  immediate,  pressing  wants,  to  all  alike,  without 
money  and  without  price — "return  it  when  you  can," — - 
he  would  say,  and  so  divided  up  his  whole  crop,  then 
worth  thousands  of  dollars.  And  yet  this  man's  oath 
could  not  at  that  time  be  taken ;  neither  could  he  sue 
in  the  courts  or  acquire  title  to  the  land  upon  which  he 
lived,  or  any  land.  He  had  negro  blood  in  his  veins, 
and  under  the  law  of  this  great  country,  then,  was  a 
proscribed  outcast.  Conditions  do  change  as  time 
passes.  The  wrong  was  so  flagrant  in  this  particular  case 
that  a  special  act  of  Congress  enabled  this  old,  big- 
hearted  pioneer  of  1845  to  hold  his  claim,  and  his  de- 
scendants are  living  on  it  yet. 


148        VENTURES   AND  ADVENTURES   OF   EZRA  MEEKER 

CHAPTER    XVI. 

THE    SECOND    CABIN. 

What  I  am  now  about  to  write  may  provoke  a  smile, 
but  I  can  only  say,  reader,  put  yourself  in  my  place. 
That  there  should  be  a  feeling  akin  to  affection  between 
a  man  and  an  ox  will  seem  past  comprehension  to  many. 
The  time  had  come  that  Buck  and  Dandy  and  I  must 
part  for  good  and  all.  I  could  not  transport  them  to 
our  island  home,  neither  provide  for  them.  These  patient, 
dumb  brutes  had  been  my  close  companions  for  the 
long,  weary  months  on  the  plains,  and  had  never  failed 
me;  they  would  do  my  bidding  to  the  letter.  I  often 
said  Buck  understood  English  better  than  some  people 
I  had  seen  in  my  lifetime.  I  had  done  what  not  one 
in  a  hundred  did ;  that  was,  to  start  on  that  trip  with 
an  unbroken  ox  and  cow  team.  I  had  selected  these 
four-year-old  steers  for  their  intelligent  eyes  as  well  as 
for  their  trim  build,  and  had  made  no  mistake.  We 
had  bivouacked  together ;  actually  slept  together,  lunched 
together.  They  knew  me  as  far  as  they  could  see,  and 
seemed  delighted  to  obey  my  word,  and  I  did  regret  to 
feel  constrained  to  part  with  them.  I  knew  they  had 
assured  my  safe  transit  on  the  weary  journey,  if  not 
even  to  the  point  of  having  saved  my  life.  I  could  pack 
them,  ride  them,  drive  them  by  the  word  and  receive 
their  salutations,  and  why  should  I  be  ashamed  to  part 
with  feelings  of  more  than  regret. 


THE    SECOND    CABIN  149 

But  I  had  scant  time  to  spend  on  sentiment.  The 
brother  did  not  expect  my  return  so  soon.  The  island 
claim  (and  cabin,  as  I  thought)  must  be  reached;  the 
little  skiff  obtained  in  which  to  transport  the  wife  and 
baby,  not  yet  feeling  willing  to  trust  them  in  a  canoe. 

So,  without  further  ado,  a  small  canoe  was  chartered, 
and  my  first  experience  to  "paddle  my  own  canoe"  ma- 
terialized. It  seemed  this  same  place  where  we  had  our 
first  clam  bake  was  the  sticking  point  again.  The  tide 
turned,  night  overtook  me,  and  I  could  go  no  farther. 
Two  men  were  in  a  cabin,  the  Doctor  Johnson  here- 
tofore mentioned  and  a  man  by  the  name  of  Hathaway, 
both  drunk  and  drinking,  with  a  jug  handy  by,  far  from 
empty.  Both  were  men  that  seemed  to  me  to  be  well 
educated,  and.  if  sober,  refined.  They  quoted  from 
Burns,  sang  songs  and  ditties,  laughed  and  danced  until 
late  in  the  night,  when  they  became  exhausted  and 
fell  asleep.  They  would  not  listen  to  my  suggestion 
that  I  would  camp  and  sleep  outside  the  cabin,  and  I 
could  not  sleep  inside,  so  the  night  passed  off  without 
rest  or  sleep  until  the  tide  turned,  and  I  was  glad  enough 
to  slip  away,  leaving  them  in  their  stupor. 

A  few  miles  vigorous  paddling  brought  me  to  Mc- 
Neil Island,  opposite  the  town  of  Steilacoom,  where  I 
expected  to  find  our  second  cabin,  my  brother  and  the 
boat.  No  cabin,  no  brother,  no  boat,  were  to  be  seen. 
A  raft  of  cabin  logs  floating  in  the  lagoon  near  by, 
where  the  United  States  penitentiary  now  stands,  was 
all  the  signs  to  be  seen,  other  than  what  was  there 
when  I  left  the  place  for  my  return  trip  to  the  Columbia 
River.  I  was  sorely  puzzled  as  to  what  to  do.  My 
brother  was  to  have  had  the  cabin  ready  by  the  time  I 


150        VENTURES   AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

returned.  He  not  only  had  not  done  that,  but  had  taken 
the  boat,  and  left  no  sign  as  to  where  it  or  he  could 
be  found.  Not  knowing  what  else  to  do  I  mechanically 
paddled  over  to  the  town,  where,  sure  enough,  the  boat 
was  anchored,  but  nobody  knew  where  the  man  had 
gone.  I  finally  found  where  the  provisions  had  been 
left,  and,  after  an  earnest  parley,  succeeded  in  getting 
possession.  I  took  my  canoe  in  tow  and  soon  made  my 
way  back  to  where  the  little  folks  were,  and  speedily 
transferred  the  whole  outfit  to  the  spot  that  was  to  be 
our  island  home;  set  up  our  tent,  and  felt  at  home  once 
more. 

The  village,  three  miles  away,  across  the  bay,  had 
grown  during  my  absence  and  in  the  distance  looked 
like  a  city  in  fact  as  well  as  in  name.  The  mountain 
looked  bigger  and  taller  than  ever.  Even  the  songs  of 
the  Indians  sounded  better,  and  the  canoes  seemed  more 
graceful,  and  the  paddles  wielded  more  expertly.  Every- 
thing looked  cheerful,  even  to  the  spouting  clams  on 
the  beach,  and  the  crow's  antics  of  breaking  clams  by 
rising  in  the  air  and  dropping  them  on  the  boulders. 
So  many  new  things  to  show  the  folks  that  I  for  a 
time  almost  forget  we  were  about  out  of  provisions  and 
money,  and  did  not  know  what  had  happened  to  the 
brother.  Thoughts  of  these  suddenly  coming  upon  us, 
our  spirits  fell,  and  for  a  time  we  could  hardly  say  we 
were  perfectly  happy. 

"I  believe  that  canoe  is  coming  straight  here,"  said 
the  little  wife,  the  next  morning,  about  nine  o'clock. 
All  else  is  dropped,  and  a  watch  set  upon  the  strange 
eraft,  moving  slowly,  apparently  in  the  long  distance, 
but  more   rapidly  as   it  approached,   and   there  sat  the 


THE    SECOND    CABIN  151 

brother.  Having  returned  to  the  village  and  finding  that 
the  boat  and  provisions  had  been  taken,  and  seeing 
smoke  in  the  bight,  he  knew  what  had  happened,  and, 
following  his  own  good  impulse,  we  were  soon  together 
again,  and  supremely  happy.  He  had  received  a  tempt- 
ing offer  to  help  load  a  ship,  and  had  just  completed  his 
contract,  and  was  able  to  exhibit  a  "slug"*  of  money 
and  more  besides  that  looked  precious  in  our  eyes. 

The  building  of  the  cabin,  with  its  stone  fireplace, 
cat-and-clay  chimney,  its  lumber  floor,  real  window  with 
glass  in,  together  with  the  high  post  bedstead  out  of 
tapering  cedar  saplings,  the  table  fastened  to  the  wall, 
with  rustic  chairs,  seemed  but  like  a  play  spell.  No 
eight  hour  a  day  work  there — eighteen  would  be  nearer 
the  mark — Ave  never  tired. 

There  came  a  letter:  "Boys,  if  Oliver  will  come  back 
to  cross  with  us,  we  will  go  to  Oregon  next  year,"  this 
signed  by  the  father,  then  fifty  years  old.  The  letter 
was  nearly  three  months  old  when  we  received  it.  What 
should  we  say  and  what  should  we  do?  Would  Daven- 
port pay  for  the  Columbia  River  claims  and  the  pros- 
pective potato  crop  in  the  fall — could  he?  We  will  say 
yes,  Oliver  will  be  with  you  next  Spring.  We  must  go 
to  the  timber  camp  to  earn  the  money  to  pay  expenses 


*A  "slug-"  was  fifty  dollars  value  in  gold,  minted  by  private 
parties,  in  octagon  form,  and  passed  current  the  same  as  if  it  had 
borne  the  government's  stamp.  "Slugs"  were  worth  as  much  melted 
as  in  the  coined  form.  My  ideas  about  the  gold  standard  were 
formed  at  that  time,  and  I  may  say  my  mind  never  changed  on 
this   subject. 

The  "Beaver  Money,"  so  called  because  of  the  stamp  of  a 
beaver  on  the  piece,  issued  by  the  pioneers  of  Oregon,  of  the  value 
of  $5.00,  was  another  instance  of  no  change  in  value  of  sold  from 
the  melting  pot  to  the  mold.  It  was  simply  a  matter  of  convenience 
to  be  rid  of  the  more  cumbersome  legal  tender,  wheat,  which  had 
been  in  vogue  so  long. 


152        VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

of  the  trip  and  not  depend  altogether  on  the  Columbia 
River  asset. 

"What  shall  we  do  with  the  things?"  said  the  little 
wife. 

"Lock  them  up  in  the  cabin,"  said  the  elder  brother. 

"And  you  go  and  stay  with  Dofflemire,"  said  the 
young  husband. 

"Not  I,"  said  the  little  wife,  "I'm  going  along  to 
cook,"  and  thus  it  was  that  all  our  well-laid  plans  were 
suddenly  changed,  our  clearing  land  deferred,  the  chicken 
house,  the  inmates  of  which  were  to  make  us  rich,  was 
not  to  be  built,  the  pigs  were  not  bought  to  fatten  on 
the  clams,  and  many  other  pet  schemes  dropped  that  we 
might  accomplish  this  one  object,  that  Oliver  might  go 
back  to  Iowa  to  "bring  the  father  out"  across  the  plains. 

We  struck  rapid,  heavy,  but  awkward  strokes  in  the 
timber  camp  established  on  the  bluff  overlooking  the 
falls  at  Tumwater,  while  the  little  wife  supplied  the 
huckleberry  pudding  for  dinner,  plenty  of  the  lightest, 
whitest  bread,  vegetables,  meat,  and  fish  served  in  style 
good  enough  for  kings ;  such  appetites !  No  coaxing 
required  to  eat  a  hearty  meal ;  such  sound  sleep ;  such 
satisfaction !  Talk  about  your  hardships.  We  would 
have  none  of  it.  It  was  a  pleasure  as  we  counted  the 
eleven  dollars  a  day  that  the  Tullis  brothers  paid  us 
for  cutting  logs,  at  one  dollar  apd  seventy  cents  a  thou- 
sand, which  we  earned  every  day,  and  Sundays,  too, 
seventy-seven  dollars  a  week.  Yes,  we  were  going  to 
make  it.  "Make  what?"  the  reader  will  say.  Why, 
succeed  in  getting  money  enough  together  to  pay  the 
passage  of  the  elder  brother  to  Iowa.  And  what  a  trip. 
Over  to  the  Columbia  River,  out  from  there  by  steamer 


THE   SECOND   CABIN  153 

to  San  Francisco,  then  to  the  Isthmus,  then  New  York, 
after  which  by  rail  as  far  west  as  there  was  a  railroad 
and  then  walk  to  Eddyville,  Iowa,  from  where  the  start 
was  again  to  be  made. 

Again  the  younger  brother  was  left  without  money 
and  but  a  scant  supply  of  provisions,  and  winter  had 
come  on.  The  elder  brother  was  speeding  on  his  way, 
and  could  not  be  heard  from  frequently.  How  our  little 
family  succeeded  in  getting  enough  together  to  eat  is 
not  an  interesting  topic  for  the  general  reader.  Suffice 
to  say,  we  always  secured  abundance,  even  if  at  times  the 
variety  was  restricted. 

It  was  soon  after  Oliver's  departure  that  I  first  made 
the  acquaintance  of  Dr.  Tolmie.  It  was  upon  the  occa- 
sion when  our  new  baby  was  born,  now  the  mother  of 
eight  grown-up  children,  and  several  times  a  grand- 
mother, Mrs.  Ella  Templeton  of  Halsey,  Oregon. 

Of  course,  Dr.  Tolmie  did  not  practice  medicine.  He 
had  the  cares  of  the  great  foreign  corporation,  the  Puget 
Sound  Agricultural  Company,  on  his  shoulders.  He  was 
harassed  by  the  settlers,  who  chafed  because  a  for- 
eign corporation  had  fenced  up  quite  large  tracts  of 
grazing  and  some  farming  lands,  and  had  thousands 
of  sheep  and  cattle  on  the  range.  Constant  friction 
was  the  result.  The  cattle  were  wild;  therefore,  some 
settler  would  kill  one  every  now  and  then,  and  make 
the  remainder  still  wilder,  and  again,  therefore,  the 
more  the  reason  that  others  might  be  killed.  The 
Doctor  was  a  patient,  tactful  man,  with  an  impulse 
to  always  do  one  a  good  turn  for  the  sake  of  doing  it. 
Consequently,  when  asked  to  attend,  he  did  so  with- 
out hesitation,  though  the  request  came  from  a  perfect 


154        VENTURES   AND   ADVENTURES   OF   EZRA  MEEKER 

stranger  and  compliance  was  to  his  great  inconven- 
ience, yet  without  fee  and  without  expectation  of  ever 
meeting  the  parties  again.  This  first  acquaintance 
ripened  into  friendship  lifelong,  that  became  closer  as 
he  neared  his  end.  But  recently,  fifty  years  after  this 
event,  I  have  had  the  pleasure  of  a  visit  from  two  of 
his  daughters,  and  I  may  say  there  has  been  scarcely 
a  year  in  all  this  time  but  some  token  of  friendship  has 
passed.  He  was  a  noble  man,  with  noble  impulses.  He 
died  on  his  farm  near  Victoria  many  years  ago. 

Soon  after  this,  I  made  my  first  acquaintance  with 
Arthur  A.  Denny.  It  came  about  in  this  way.  He  and 
two  other  gentlemen  were  returning  from  the  first  Terri- 
torial Legislature,  then  just  adjourned.  Wind  and  tide 
compelled  them  to  suspend  their  journey  from  Olympia 
to  Seattle,  and  to  stay  over  night  with  us  in  the  little 
cabin.  This  was  early  in  May,  1854.  Mr.  Denny  re- 
marked in  the  morning  that  he  thought  there  was  a 
good  foundation  under  my  cabin  floor,  as  he  did  not  find 
any  spring  to  the  bed.  He  and  his  companion  laid  on 
the  floor,  but  I  remember  we  did  not  go  to  bed  very 
early.  All  during  the  session  we  had  heard  a  great  deal 
about  removing  the  capital  of  the  Territory  from  Olym- 
pia to  Steilacoom.  The  legislature  had  adjourned  and 
no  action  had  been  taken,  and.  in  fact,  no  bill  for  the 
purpose  was  introduced.  Mr.  Denny  said  that  before 
the  recess  a  clear  majority  of  both  houses  were  in  favor 
of  removal  to  Steilacoom,  but  for  the  mistake  of  Lafayette 
Balch,  member  of  the  council  from  Pierce  County,  the 
removal  would  have  been  accomplished.  Balch,  so  Denny 
told  me,  felt  so  sure  of  his  game  that  he  did  not  press  to 
a.  vote  before  the  recess. 


THE    SECOND    CABIN  155 

At  that,  the  first  session  of  the  Legislature,  the  mania 
was  for  Territorial  roads;  everybody  wanted  a  Terri- 
torial road.  One,  projected  from  Seattle  to  Bellingham 
Bay,  did  not  meet  with  approval  by  Balch.  Stroking 
his  long  beard  as  he  was  wont  to  do  almost  mechanically, 
he  "thought  they  had  gone  far  enough  in  establishing 
roads  for  one  session."  It  was  impolitic  in  the  highest 
degree  for  Balch  to  offend  the  northern  members  in  this 
way,  as  also  unnecessary,  as  usually  these  roads  remained 
on  paper  only,  and  cost  nothing.  However,  he  lost  his 
majority  in  the  council,  and  so  the  project  died,  to  the 
very  great  disappointment  of  the  people  of  Steilacoom 
and   surrounding  country. 


156   VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

CHAPTER    XVII. 

TRIP    THROUGH    THE    NATCHESS    PASS. 

The  latter  part  of  August,  1854,  James  K.  Hurd,  of 
Olympia,  sent  me  word  that  he  had  been  out  on  the 
immigrant  trail  and  heard  that  some  of  my  relations 
on  the  road  were  belated  and  short  of  provisions.  He 
advised  me  that  I  should  go  to  their  assistance,  and  par- 
ticularly if  I  wanted  to  be  sure  they  should  come  direct 
to  Puget  Sound  over  the  Cascade  Mountains,  and  not 
go  down  the  Columbia  River  into  Oregon.  How  it 
could  be,  with  the  experience  of  my  brother  Oliver  to 
guide  them,  that  my  people  should  be  in  the  condition 
described  was  past  my  comprehension.  However,  I 
accepted  the  statement  as  true  and  particularly  felt 
the  importance  of  their  having  certain  knowledge  as  to 
prevailing  conditions  of  an  over-mountain  trip  through 
the  Natchess  Pass.  But  how  could  I  go  and  leave  wife 
and  two  babies  on  our  island  home?  The  summer  had 
been  spent  clearing  land  and  planting  crops,  and  my 
finances  were  very  low.  To  remove  my  family  would 
cost  money,  besides  the  abandonment  of  the  season's 
work  to  almost  certain  destruction.  The  wife  said  at 
once,  and  without  a  moment's  hesitation,  to  go,  and  she 
and  Mrs.  Darrow,  who  was  with  us  as  nurse  and  com- 
panion friend,  would  stay  "right  where  we  are  until 
you  get  back,"  with  a  confidence  in  which  I  did  not 
share.  The  trip  at  best  was  hazardous  to  an  extent, 
even    when   undertaken    well   prepared    and    with    com- 


TRIP   THROUGH    THE   NACTHESS    PASS  157 

pany.  So  far  as  I  could  see,  I  might  have  to  go  on  foot 
and  pack  my  food  and  blanket  on  my  back,  and  I  knew 
that  I  would  have  to  go  alone.  I  knew  some  work  had 
been  done  on  the  road  during  the  summer,  but  was  un- 
unable  to  get  definite  information  as  to  whether  any 
camps  were  yet  left  in  the  mountains,  and  did  not  have 
that  abiding  faith  in  my  ability  to  get  back  that  rested 
in  the  breast  of  the  little,  courageous  wife,  but  I  dared 
not  impart  my  forebodings  to  harass  and  intensify  her 
fears  and  disturb  her  peace  of  mind  while  absent.  The 
immigration  the  previous  year,  as  related  elsewhere, 
had  encountered  formidable  difficulties  in  the  moun- 
tains, narrowly  escaping  the  loss  of  everything,  if  not 
facing  actual  starvation.  Reports  were  current  that 
the  government  appropriation  for  a  military  road  had 
been  expended,  and  that  the  road  was  passable  for  teams, 
but  a  like  report  had  been  freely  circulated  the  previous 
year,  with  results  almost  disastrous  to  those  attempting 
to  come  through.  I  could  not  help  feeling  that  possibly 
the  same  conditions  yet  existed.  The  only  way  to  deter- 
mine the  question  was  to  go  and  see  for  myself;  meet 
my  father's  party  and  pilot  them  through  the  pass. 

It  was  on  the  third  day  of  September  of  1854  that 
I  left  home.  I  had  been  planting  turnips  for  two  days, 
and  made  a  memorandum  of  the  date,  and  by  that  fix 
the  date  of  my  departure.  Of  that  turnip  crop  I  shall 
have  more  to  say  later,  as  it  had  a  cheering  effect  upon 
the  incoming  immigrants. 

At  Steilacoom  there  was  a  character  then  understood 
by  few,  and  I  may  say  by  not  even  many  to  the  end,  in 
whom,  somehow,  I  had  implicit  confidence.  Dr.  J.  B. 
Webber,  afterwards  of  the  firm  of  Balch  &  Webber,  of 


158        VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES   OP  EZRA  MEEKER 

Steilaeoom,  the  largest  shipping  and  mercantile  firm  on 
the  Sound,  was  a  very  eccentric  man.  Between  him  and 
myself  there  would  seem  to  be  a  gulf  that  could  not  be 
closed.  Our  habits  of  life  were  as  diametrically  oppo- 
site as  possible  for  two  men  to  be.  He  was  always  drink- 
ing ;  never  sober,  neither  ever  drunk.  I  would  never 
touch  a  drop,  while  the  doctor  would  certainly  drink  a 
dozen  times  a  day,  just  a  little  at  a  time,  but  seemingly 
tippling  all  the  time.  Then,  he  openly  kept  an  Indian 
woman  in  defiance  of  the  sentiment  of  all  the  fam- 
ilies of  the  community.  It  was  with  this  man  that 
I  entrusted  the  safekeeping  of  my  little  family.  I 
knew  my  wife  had  such  an  aversion  to  this  class  that  I 
did  not  even  tell  her  with  whom  I  would  arrange  to  look 
out  for  her  welfare,  but  suggested  another  to  whom  she 
might  apply  in  case  of  need.  I  knew  Dr.  Webber  for 
long  years  afterwards,  and  until  the.  day  of  his  horrible 
death  with  delirium  tremens,  and  never  had  my  faith 
shaken  as  to  the  innate  goodness  of  the  man.  "Why 
these  contrary  traits  of  character  should  be,  I  cannot 
say,  but  so  it  was.  His  word  was  as  good  as  his  bond, 
and  his  impulses  were  all  directly  opposite  to  his  per- 
sonal habits.  Twice  a  week  an  Indian  woman  visited 
the  cabin  on  the  island,  always  with  some  little  presents 
and  making  inquiries  about  the  babies  and  whether  there 
was  anything  needed,  with  the  parting  "alki  nika  keel- 
apie"  (by  and  by  I  will  return)  ;  and  she  did,  every  few 
days  after  my  absence. 

When  I  spoke  to  Webber  about  what  I  wanted,  he 
seemed  pleased  to  be  able  to  do  a  kind  act,  and,  to  re- 
assure me,  got  out  his  field  glasses  and  turned  it  on  the 
cabin   across   the   water,    three   miles    distant.      Looking 


TRIP   THROUGH   THE    NATCHESS    PASS  159 

through  it  intently  for  a  moment  and  handing  the  glass 
to  me,  said,  "I  can  see  everything  going  on  over  there, 
and  you  need  have  no  uneasiness  about  your  folks  while 
gone,"  and  I  did  not. 

With  a  fifty-pound  flour  sack  filled  with  hard  bread, 
or  navy  biscuit,  a  small  piece  of  dried  venison,  a  couple 
of  pounds  of  cheese,  a  tin  cup  and  half  of  a  three  point 
blanket,  all  made  into  a  pack  of  less  than  forty  pounds, 
T  climbed  the  hill  at  Steilacoom  and  took  the  road  lead- 
ing to  Puyallup,  and  spent  the  night  with  Jonathan  Mc- 
Carty,  near  where  the  town  of  Sumner  now  is. 

McCarty  said:  "You  can't  get  across  the  streams  on 
foot;  I  will  let  you  have  a  pony.  He  is  small,  but  sure- 
footed, and  hardy,  and  will  in  any  event  carry  you 
across  the  rivers."  McCarty  also  said:  "Tell  your  folks 
this  is  the  greatest  grass  country  on  earth;  why,  I  am 
sure  I  harvested  five  tons  of  timothy  to  the  acre  this 
year."  Upon  my  expressing  a  doubt,  he  said  he  knew 
he  was  correct  by  the  measurement  of  the  mow  in  the 
barn  and  the  land.  In  after  years,  I  came  to  know  he 
was  correct,  though  at  the  time  I  could  not  help  but 
believe  he  was  mistaken. 

The  next  day  found  me  on  the  road  with  my  blanket 
under  the  saddle,  my  sack  of  hard  bread  strapped  on 
behind  the  saddle,  and  myself  mounted  to  ride  on 
level  stretches  of  the  road,  or  across  streams,  of  which. 
as  will  appear  later,  I  had  full  forty  crossings  to  make, 
but  had  only  one  ahead  of  me  the  first  day.  That  one, 
though,  as  the  Englishman  would  say,  was  a  "nasty" 
one,  across  "White  River  at  Porter's  place. 

White  River  on  the  upper  reaches  is  a  roaring  torrent 
only  at  all  fordable  in  low  water  and  in  but  few  places. 


160        VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA   MEEKER 

The  rush  of  waters  can  be  heard  for  a  mile  or  more  from 
the  high  bluff  overlooking  the  narrow  valley,  or  rather 
canyon,  and  presented  a  formidable  barrier  for  a  lone 
traveler.  The  river  bed  is  full  of  boulders  worn  rounded 
and  smooth  and  slippery,  from  the  size  of  a  man's  head 
to  very  much  larger,  thus  making  footing  for  animals 
uncertain.  After  my  first  crossing,  I  dreaded  those  to 
come,  which  I  knew  were  ahead  of  me,  more  than  all 
else  of  the  trip,  for  a  mistep  of  the  pony  meant  fatal 
results  in  all  probability.  The  little  fellow,  though, 
seemed  to  be  equal  to  the  occasion.  If  the  footing  be- 
came too  uncertain,  he  would  stop  stock  still,  and  pound 
the  water  with  one  foot  and  finally  reach  out  carefully 
until  he  could  find  secure  footing,  and  then  move  up 
a  step  or  two.  The  water  of  the  river  is  so  charged  with 
the  sediment  from  the  glaciers  above,  that  the  bottom 
could  not  be  seen — only  felt — hence  the  absolute  neces- 
sity of  feeling  one's  way.  It  is  wonderful,  the  sagacity 
or  instinct  or  intelligence,  or  whatever  we  may  call 
it,  manifested  by  the  horse.  I  immediately  learned  that 
my  pony  could  be  trusted  on  the  fords  better  than  my- 
self, thereafter  I  held  only  a  supporting,  but  not  a  guid- 
ing rein,  and  he  carried  me  safely  over  the  forty  cross- 
ings on  my  way  out,  and  my  brother  as  many  on  the 
return  trip. 

Allen  Porter  lived  near  the  first  crossing,  on  the 
farther  side,  and  as  this  was  the  last  settler  I  would  see 
and  the  last  place  I  could  get  feed  for  my  pony,  other 
than  grass  or  browse,  I  put  up  for  the  night  under  his 
roof.  He  said  I  was  going  on  a  "Tom  fool's  errand," 
for  my  folks  could  take  care  of  themselves,  and  tried  to 
dissuade   me   from   proceeding   on  my  journey.      But   I 


TRIP  THROUGH   THE   NATCHESS   PASS  161 

would  not  be  turned  back,  and  the  following  morning 
cut  loose  from  the  settlements  and,  figuratively  speaking, 
plunged  into  the  deep  forest  of  the  mountains. 

The  road  (if  it  could  be  properly  called  a  road),  lay 
in  the  narrow  valley  of  White  River,  or  on  the  moun- 
tains adjacent,  in  some  places  (as  at  Mud  Mountain) 
reaching  an  altitude  of  more  than  a  thousand  feet  above 
the  river  bed.  Some  places  the  forest  was  so  dense  that 
one  could  scarcely  see  to  read  at  mid-day,  while  in  other 
places  large  burns  gave  an  opening  for  daylight. 

During  the  forenoon  of  this  first  day,  while  in  one  of 
those  deepest  of  deep  forests,  where,  if  the  sky  was  clear, 
and  one  could  catch  a  spot  you  could  see  out  overhead, 
one  might  see  the  stars  as  from  a  deep  well,  my  pony 
stopped  short,  raised  his  head  with  his  ears  pricked  up, 
indicating  something  unusual  was  at  hand.  Just  then, 
I  caught  an  indistinct  sight  of  a  movement  ahead,  and 
thought  I  heard  voices,  while  the  pony  made  an  effort 
to  turn  and  flee  in  the  opposite  direction.  Soon  there 
appeared  three  women  and  eight  children  on  foot,  com- 
ing dowu  the  road  in  blissful  ignorance  of  the  presence 
of  any  one  but  themselves  in  the  forest. 

"Why,  stranger!  Where  on  earth  did  you  come 
from?  Where  are  you  going  to,  and  what  are  you  here 
for?"  was  asked  by  the  foremost  woman  of  the  party,  in 
such  quick  succession  as  to  utterly  preclude  any  answer, 
as  she  discovered  me  standing  on  the  roadway  holding 
my  uneasy  pony.  Mutual  explanations  soon  followed.  I 
soon  learned  their  teams  had  become  exhausted,  and  that 
all  the  wagons  but  one  had  been  left,  and  this  one  was 
on  the  road  a  few  miles  behind  them;  that  they  were 
entirely  out  of  provisions  and  had  had  nothing  to  eat 


162        VENTURES   AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

for  twenty  hours,  except  what  natural  food  they  had 
gathered,  which  was  not  much.  They  eagerly  inquired 
the  distance  to  food,  which  I  thought  they  might  possi- 
bly reach  that  night,  but  in  any  event  the  next  morn- 
ing  early.  Meanwhile  I  had  opened  my  sack  of  hard 
bread  and  gave  each  a  cracker,  in  the  eating  of  which 
the  sound  resembled  pigs  cracking  dry,  hard  corn. 

Of  those  eleven  persons,  I  only  know  of  but  one  now 
alive,  although,  of  course,  the  children  soon  outgrew  my 
knowledge  of  them,  but  they  never  forgot  me. 

Mrs.  Anne  Fawcet,  the  spokesman  of  the  party.  I 
knew  well  in  after  years,  and  although  now  eighty  years 
old  (she  will  pardon  me  for  telling  her  age),  is  living  in 
good  circumstances  a  mile  out  from  the  town  of  Au- 
burn, nearly  twenty  miles  south  of  Seattle,  and  but  a 
couple  of  miles  from  the  scene  of  the  dreadful  massacre 
at  the  outbreak  leading  to  the  Indian  war  of  1855,  where 
the  gallant  Lieutenant  Slaughter  lost  his  life. 

Mrs.  Fawcet  can  scarcely  be  called  a  typical  pioneer 
woman,  yet  there  were  many  approaching  her  ways.  She 
was  of  too  independent  a  character  to  be  molded  into 
that  class ;  too  self-reliant  to  be  altogether  like  her  neigh- 
bor housewives;  and  yet  was  possessed  of  those  sturdy 
virtues  so  common  with  the  pioneer — industry  and  fru- 
gality, coupled  with  unbounded  hospitality.  The  other 
ladies  of  the  party.  Mrs.  Herpsberger  and  Mrs.  Hall.  T 
never  knew  afterwards,  and  have  no  knowledge  as  to 
their  fate,  other  than  that  they  arrived  safely  in  the 
settlements. 

But  we  neither  of  us  had  time  to  parley  or  visit,  and 
so  the  ladies  with  their  children,  barefoot  and  ragged, 
bareheaded    and    unkempt,    started    down    the    mountain 


TRIP    THROUGH   THE    NATCHESS   PASS  163 

intent  on  reaching  food,  while  I  started  up  the  road 
wondering  or  not  whether  this  scene  was  to  be  often 
repeated  as  I  advanced  on  my  journey.  A  dozen  biscuits 
of  hard  bread  is  usually  a  very  small  matter,  but  with 
me  it  might  mean  a  great  deal.  How  far  would  I  have 
to  go?  When  could  I  find  out?  What  would  be  the 
plight  of  my  people  when  found?  Or  would  I  find  them 
at  all?  Might  they  not  pass  by  and  be  on  the  way  down 
the  Columbia  River  before  I  could  reach  the  main  im- 
migrant trail?  These  and  kindred  questions  weighed 
heavily  on  my  mind  as  I  slowly  and  gradually  ascended 
the  mountain. 

Some  new  work  on  the  road  gave  evidence  that  men 
had  recently  been  there,  but  the  work  was  so  slight  one 
could  easily  believe  immigrants  might  have  done  it  as 
they  passed.  Fifteen  thousand  dollars  had  been  appro- 
priated by  Congress  for  a  military  road,  which  report 
said  would  be  expended  in  improving  the  way  cut  by 
the  immigrants  and  citizens  through  the  Natchess  Pass 
during  the  summer  of  1853.  I  saw  some  of  the  work, 
but  do  not  remember  seeing  any  of  the  men,  as  I  stuck 
close  to  the  old  trail,  and  so  my  first  camp  was  made 
alone,  west  of  the  summit  and  without  special  incident. 
I  had  reached  an  altitude  where  the  night  chill  was 
keenly  felt,  and,  with  my  light  blanket,  missed  the 
friendly  contact  of  the  back  of  the  faithful  ox  that  had 
served  me  so  well  on  the  plains.  My  pony  had  nothing 
but  browse  for  supper,  and  was  restless.  Nevertheless 
I  slept  soundly  and  was  up  early,  refreshed  and  ready 
to  resume  the  journey. 


164        VENTURES   AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

TRIP    THROUGH    THE    NATCHESS    PASS— Continued. 

It  is  strange  how  the  mind  will  vividly  retain  the 
memory  of  some  incidents  of  no  particular  importance, 
while  the  recollection  of  other  passing  events  so  com- 
pletely fades  away.  I  knew  I  had  to  cross  that  ugly 
stream,  White  River,  five  times  during  the  first  day's 
travel,  but  cannot  recall  but  one  crossing,  where  my 
pony  nearly  lost  his  balance,  and  came  down  on  his 
knees  with  his  nose  in  the  water  for  the  moment,  but  to 
recover  and  bravely  carry  me  out  safely. 

The  lone  camp  well  up  on  the  mountain  had  chilled 
me,  but  the  prospect  before  me  and  that  I  had  left  be- 
hind brought  a  depressed  feeling  most  difficult  to  de- 
scribe. I  had  passed  through  long  stretches  of  forest 
so  tall  and  so  dense  that  it  seemed  incredible  that  such 
did  exist  anywhere  on  earth.  And  then,  the  road;  such 
a  road,  if  it  could  be  called  a  road.  Curiously  enough, 
the  heavier  the  standing  timber,  the  easier  it  had  been 
to  slip  through  with  wagons,  there  being  but  little  un- 
decayed  or  down  timber.  In  the  ancient  of  days,  how- 
ever, great  giants  had  been  uprooted,  lifting  considerable 
earth  with  the  upturned  roots,  that,  as  time  went  on 
and  the  roots  decayed,  formed  mounds  two,  three,  or 
four  feet  high,  leaving  a  corresponding  hollow  in  which 
one  would  plunge,  the  whole  being  covered  by  a  dense, 
short,  evergreen  growth,  completely  hiding  from  view 
the  unevenness  of  the  ground.     Over  these  hillocks  and 


TRIP    THROUGH    THE    NATCHESS    PASS  165 

hollows  the  immigrants  had  rolled  their  wagon  wheels, 
and  over  the  large  roots  of  the  fir,  often  as  big  as  one's 
body  and  nearly  all  of  them  on  top  of  the  ground.  I 
will  not  undertake  to  say  how  many  of  these  giant 
trees  were  to  be  found  to  the  acre,  but  they  were  so 
numerous  and  so  large  that  in  many  places  it  was  diffi- 
cult to  find  a  passageway  between  them,  and  then 
only  by  a  tortuous  route  winding  in  various  directions. 
When  the  timber  burns  were  encountered  the  situation 
was  worse.  Often  the  remains  of  timber  would  be 
piled  in  such  confusion  that  sometimes  wagons  could 
pass  under  logs  that  rested  on  others;  then  again,  others 
were  encountered  half  buried,  while  still  others  would 
rest  a  foot  or  so  from  the  ground.  These,  let  the  reader 
remember,  oftentimes  were  five  feet  or  more  in  diameter, 
with  trunks  from  two  to  three  hundred  feet  in  length. 
All  sorts  of  devices  had  been  resorted  to  in  order  to 
overcome  those  obstructions.  In  many  cases,  where 
not  too  large,  cuts  had  been  taken  out,  while  in  other 
places,  the  large  timber  had  been  bridged  up  to  by 
piling  smaller  logs,  rotten  chunks,  brush,  or  earth,  so 
the  wheels  of  the  wagon  could  be  rolled  up  over  the 
body  of  the  tree.  Usually  three  notches  would  be  cut 
on  the  top  of  the  log,  two  for  the  wheels  and  one  for 
the  reach  or  coupling  pole  to  pass  through. 

In  such  places,  the  oxen  would  be  taken  to  the  oppo- 
site side,  a  chain  or  rope  run  to  the  end  of  the  tongue, 
a  man  to  drive,  one  or  two  to  guide  the  tongue,  others 
to  help  at  the  wheels,  and  so  with  infinte  labor  and 
great  care  the  wagons  would  gradually  be  worked  down 
the  mountain  in  the  direction  of  the  settlements.  Small 
wonder  that  the  immigrants  of  the  previous  year  should 


166        VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES   OP  EZRA  MEEKER 

report  that  they  had  to  cut  their  way  through  the  timber, 
while  the  citizen  road  workers  had  reported  that  the  road 
was  opened,  and  small  wonder  that  the  prospect  of  the 
road  should  have  as  chilling  effect  on  my  mind  as  the 
chill  of  the  mountain  air  had  had  on  my  body. 

But,  the  more  difficulties  encountered,  the  more  deter- 
mined I  became,  at  all  hazards,  to  push  through,  for 
the  more  the  necessity  to  acquaint  myself  with  the 
obstacles  to  be  encountered  and  to  be  with  my  friends  to 
encourage  and  help  them.  Before  me  lay  the  great 
range  or  pass,  five  thousand  feet  above  sea  level,  and 
the  rugged  mountain  climb  to  get  to  the  summit,  and 
the  summit  prairies  where  my  pony  could  have  a  feast 
of  grass.  It  was  on  this  summit  hill  the  immigration 
of  the  previous  year  had  encountered  such  grave  diffi- 
culties. At  the  risk  of  in  part  repeating,  I  am  tempted 
to  quote  some  of  my  own  words  to  a  select  party  of 
friends,  the  teachers  of  the  county  in  which  I  have 
lived  so  long,  prepared  for  that  special  occasion. 

"About  twenty  miles  north  of  the  great  mountain 
of  the  Cascade  range  is  a  picturesque,  small  scope  of 
open  country  known  as  Summit  Prairie,  in  the  Natchess 
Pass,  some  seventy  miles  southeasterly  from  this  city 
(Tacoma).  In  this  prairie,  fifty  years  ago  this  coming 
autumn,  a  camp  of  immigrants  was  to  be  seen.  *  *  * 
Go  back  they  could  not;  either  they  must  go  ahead  or 
starve  in  the  mountains.  A  short  way  out  from  the 
camp  a  steep  mountain  declivity  lay  square  across  their 
track.  As  one  of  the  ladies  of  the  party  said,  when  she 
first  saw  it:  'Why,  Lawsee  Massee !  We  have  come  to 
the  jumping  off  place  at  last!'  This  lady  felt,  as  many 
others  of  the  party  felt,  like  they  had  come  to  the  end 


TRIP    THROUGH    THE   NATCHESS    PASS  167 

of  the  world  (to  them),  and  the  exclamation  was  not 
for  stage  effect,  but  of  fervent  prayer  for  deliverance. 

"Stout  hearts  in  the  party  were  not  to  be  deterred 
from  making  the  effort  to  go  ahead.  Go  around  this 
hill  they  could  not;  go  down  it  with  logs  trailed  to  the 
wagons,  as  they  had  done  before,  they  could  not,  as  the 
hill  was  so  steep  the  logs  would  go  end  over  end  and 
be  a  danger  instead  of  a  help.  So  the  rope  they  had 
was  run  down  the  hill  and  found  to  be  too  short  to  reach 
the  bottom.  One  of  the  leaders  of  the  party  (I  knew 
him  well)  turned  to  his  men  and  said,  'Kill  a  steer/ 
and  they  killed  a  steer,  cut  his  hide  into  strips  and  spliced 
it  to  the  rope.  It  was  found  yet  to  be  too  short  to  reach 
to  the  bottom.  The  order  went  out:  'Kill  two  more 
steers ! '  And  two  more  steers  were  killed,  their  hides 
cut  into  strips  and  spliced  to  the  rope,  which  then  reached 
the  bottom  of  the  hill;  and  by  the  aid  of  that  rope  and 
strips  of  the  hides  of  those  three  steers,  twenty-nine 
wagons  were  lowered  down  the  mountain  side  to  the 
bottom  of  the  steep  hill. 

"Now,  my  friends,  there  is  no  fiction  about  this 
story. — it  is  a  true  story,  and  some  of  the  actors  are  yet 
alive,  and  some  of  them  live  in  this  county.  Nor  were 
their  trials  ended  when  they  got  their  wagons  down  to 
the  bottom  of  that  hill. 

"Does  it  now  seem  possible  for  mortal  man  to  do 
this?  And  yet  this  is  only  a  plain  statement  of  an  inci- 
dent of  pioneer  life  without  giving  any  names  and  dates, 
that  can  yet  be  verified  by  living  Avitnesses;  but  those 
witnesses  are  not  here  for  long. 

"James  Biles,  who  afterwards  settled  near  Olympia, 
was  the  man  who  ordered  the  steers  killed  to  procure 


168   VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES  OP  EZRA  MEEKER 

the  hides  to  lengthen  out  the  rope.  Geo.  H.  Himes,  of 
Portland,  who  is  still  living,  was  one  of  the  party;  so 
was  Stephen  Judson,  of  Steilacoom;  also  Nelson  Sar- 
geant,  of  Grand  Mound,  now  a  very  old  man. 

"The  feat  of  bringing  that  train  of  twenty-nine 
wagons  in  with  the  loss  of  only  one  is  the  greatest  of  any- 
thing I  ever  knew  or  heard  of  in  the  way  of  pioneer 
travel. 

"With  snail-like  movements,  the  cattle  and  men  be- 
coming weaker  and  weaker,  progress  was  made  each  day 
until  it  finally  seemed  as  if  the  oxen  could  do  no  more, 
and  it  became  necessary  to  send  them  forward  on  the 
trail  ten  miles,  where  it  was  known  plenty  of  grass  could 
be  had.  Meantime  the  work  on  the  road  continued  until 
the  third  day,  when  the  last  particle  of  food  was  gone. 
The  teams  were  brought  back,  the  trip  over  the  whole 
ten  miles  made,  and  Connell's  Prairie  reached  at  dark. 

"The  struggle  over  that  ten  miles,  where  to  a  certain 
extent  each  party  became  so  intent  on  their  particular 
surroundings  as  to  forget  all  else,  left  the  women  and 
children  to  take  care  of  themselves  while  the  husbands 
tugged  at  the  wagons.  I  now  have  in  mind  to  relate 
the  experience  of  one  of  these  mothers  with  a  ten-year-old 
boy,  one  child  four  years  and  another  eight  months. 

"Part  of  the  time  these  people  traveled  on  the  old 
trail  and  part  on  the  newly-cut  road,  and  by  some  means 
fell  behind  the  wagons,  which  forded  that  turbulent, 
dangerous  stream,  White  River,  before  they  reached  the 
bank,  and  were  out  of  sight,  not  knowing  but  the  women 
and  children  were  ahead. 

"I  wish  every  little  boy  of  ten  years  of  age  of  this 
great  State,  or,  for  that  matter,  twenty  years  old  or  more, 


TRIP   THROUGH    THE   NATCHESS    PASS  169 

could  read  and  profit  by  what  I  am  now  going  to  relate, 
especially  if  that  little  or  big  boy  at  times  thinks  he  is 
having  a  hard  time  because  he  is  asked  to  help  his  mother 
or  father  at  odd  times,  or  perchance  to  put  in  a  good 
solid  day's  work  on  Saturday,  instead  of  spending  it  as 
a  holiday ;  or  if  he  has  a  cow  to  milk  or  wood  to  split,  or 
anything  that  is  work,  to  make  him  bewail  his  fate  for 
having  such  a  hard  time  in  life.  I  think  the  reading  of 
the  experience  of  this  little  ten-year-old  boy  with  his 
mother  and  the  two  smaller  children  would  encourage 
him  to  feel  more  cheerful  and  more  content  with  his  lot. 

"As  I  have  said,  the  wagons  had  passed  on,  and 
there  these  four  people  were  on  the  right  bank  of  the 
river  while  their  whole  company  was  on  the  opposite 
bank  and  had  left  them  there  alone. 

"A  large  fallen  tree  reached  across  the  river,  but 
the  top  on  the  further  side  lay  so  close  to  the  water  that 
a  constant  trembling  and  swaying  made  the  trip  danger- 
ous. 

"None  of  them  had  eaten  anything  since  the  day 
previous,  and  but  a  scant  supply  then ;  but  the  boy  reso- 
lutely shouldered  the  four-year-old  and  safely  deposited 
him  on  the  other  side.  Then  came  next  the  little  tot, 
the  baby,  to  be  carried  in  arms  across.  Next  came  the 
mother. 

"  *I  can't  go!'  she  exclaimed;  'it  makes  me  so  dizzy.' 

"  'Put  one  hand  over  your  eyes,  mother,  and  take 
hold  of  me  with  the  other,'  said  the  boy;  and  so  they 
began  to  move  out  sideways  on  the  log,  a  half  step  at  a 
time. 

"  'Hold  steady,  mother;  we  are  nearly  over.' 

"  'Oh,  I  am   gone!'  was  the  only  response,   as  she 


a  70        VENTURES    AND   ADVENTURES   OF   EZRA   MEEKER 

lost  her  balance  and  fell  into  the  river,  but  happily  so 
near  the  farther  bank  that  the  little  boy  was  able  to 
catch  a  bush  with  one  hand  that  hung  over  the  bank, 
while  holding  on  to  his  mother  with  the  other,  and  so  she 
was  saved. 

"It  was  then  nearly  dark,  and  without  any  knowl- 
edge of  how  far  it  was  to  camp,  the  little  party  started 
on  the  road,  only  tarrying  long  enough  on  the  bank  of 
the  river  for  the  mother  to  wring  the  water  out  of  her 
skirts,  the  boy  carrying  the  baby,  while  the  four-year-old 
walked  beside  his  mother.  After  nearly  two  miles  of 
travel  and  ascending  a  very  steep  hill,  it  being  now 
dark,  the  glimmer  of  camp  lights  came  into  view ;  but 
the  mother  could  see  nothing,  for  she  fell  senseless,  utter- 
ly prostrated. 

"I  have  been  up  and  down  that  hill  a  number  of 
times,  and  do  not  wonder  the  poor  woman  fell  helpless 
after  the  effort  to  reach  the  top.  The  great  wonder  is 
that  she  should  have  been  able  to  go  as  far  as  she  did. 
The  incident  illustrates  how  the  will  power  can  nerve 
one  up  to  extraordinary  achievements,  but  when  the 
object  is  attained  and  the  danger  is  past,  then  the  power 
is  measurably  lost,  as  in  this  case,  when  the  good  woman 
came  to  know  they  were  safe.  The  boy  hurried  his  two 
little  brothers  into  camp,  calling  for  help  to  rescue  his 
mother.  The  appeal  was  promptly  responded  to,  the 
woman  being  carried  into  camp  and  tenderly  cared  for 
until  she  revived. 

"Being  asked  if  he  did  not  want  something  to  eat, 
the  boy  said  'he  had  forgotten  all  about  it,'  and  further, 
'he  didn't  see  anything  to  eat,  anyway;'  whereupon 
some  one  with   a  stick  began  to  uncover  some  roasted 


TRIP    THROUGH   THE   NATCHESS    PASS  171 

potatoes,  which  he  has  decided  was  the  best  meal  he  has 
ever  eaten,  even  to  this  day. 

"This  is  a  plain  recital  of  actual  occurrences,  with- 
out exaggeration,  obtained  from  the  parties  themselves 
and  corroborated  by  numerous  living  witnesses. 

"There  were  128  people  in  that  train,  and  through 
the  indefatigable  efforts  of  Mr.  Geo.  H.  Himes,  of  Port- 
land, Oregon,  who  was  one  of  the  party,  and  in  fact  the 
ten-year-old  boy  referred  to,  I  am  able  to  give  the  names 
in  part. 

"I  have  been  thus  particular  in  telling  this  story  to 
illustrate  what  trials  were  encountered  and  overcome  by 
the  pioneers  of  that  day,  to  the  end  that  the  later  genera- 
tions may  pause  in  their  hasty  condemnation  of  their 
present  surroundings  and  opportunities  and  to  ask  them- 
selves whether  in  all  candor  they  do  not  feel  they  are 
blessed  beyond  the  generation  that  has  gone  before  them, 
the  hardy  pioneers  of  this  country." 

This  book  could  easily  be  filled  by  the  recital  of  such 
heroic  acts,  varying  only  in  detail  and  perhaps  in  tragic 
results;  yet  would  only  show  in  fact  the  ready,  resource- 
ful tact  of  the  pioneers  of  those  days. 

I  want  to  repeat  here  again  that  I  do  not  look  upon 
that  generation  of  men  and  women  as  superior  to  the 
present  generation,  except  in  this :  The  pioneers  had 
lost  a  large  number  of  physically  weak  on  the  trip,  thus 
applying  the  great  law  of  the  survival  of  the  fittest;  and 
further,  that  the  great  number  of  pioneers  in  the  true 
sense  of  the  word — frontiersmen  for  generations  before — 
hence  were  by  training  and  habits  eminently  fitted  to 
meet  the  emergencies  of  the  trip  and  conditions  to  follow. 

One  of  the  incidents  of  this  trip  should  be  related 


172   VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

to  perpetuate  the  memory  of  heroic  actions  of  the  times, 
that  of  the  famous  ride  across  these  mountains  and  to 
Olympia,  of  Mrs.  Catherine  Frazier,  one  of  this  party, 
on  an  ox. 

Three  days  after  arrival,  Mrs.  Frazier  gave  birth 
to  the  third  white  child  born  in  Pierce  County,  Wash- 
ington Frazier,  named  after  the  great  territory  that  had 
been  chosen  for  the  home  of  the  parents  and  descendants. 

The  first  report,  that  the  "mother  and  son  were  doing 
well,"  can  again  and  again  be  repeated,  as  both*  are  yet 
alive,  the  mother  now  past  seventy-three  and  the  son 
fifty,  and  both  yet  residing  at  South  Bay,  near  Olympia, 
where  the  parents  soon  settled  after  arrival. 

The  curious  part  of  such  incidents  is  the  perfect  un- 
consciousness of  the  parties  of  having  done  anything 
that  would  be  handed  down  to  posterity  as  exhibiting 
any  spirit  of  fortitude  or  of  having  performed  any  heroic 
act.  The  young  bride  could  not  walk,  neither  could  she 
be  taken  into  the  wagons,  and  she  could  ride  an  ox, 
and  so,  without  ceremony,  mounted  her  steed  and  fell 
into  the  procession  without  attracting  especial  atten- 
tion or  passing  remark.  Doubtless  the  lady,  at  the 
time,  would  have  shrunk  from  any  undue  notice,  because 
of  her  mount,  and  would  have  preferred  a  more  appro- 
priate entry  into  the  future  capital  of  the  future  State, 
but  it  is  now  quite  probable  that  she  looks  upon  the  act 
with  a  feeling  akin  to  pride,  and  in  any  event,  not  with 
feelings  of  mortification  or  false  pride  that  possibly,  at 
that  time,  might  have  lurked  within  her  breast. 

The  birth  of  children  was  not  an  infrequent  incident 


♦Since  these  lines  were  penned  Mrs.   Frazier  has  joined  the  ma- 
jority of  that  generation  in  the  life  beyond. 


TRIP    THROUGH   THE    NATCHESS    PASS  173 

on  the  plains,  the  almost  universal  report  following, 
"doing  as  well  as  could  be  expected,"  the  trip  being  re- 
sumed with  but  very  short  interruption,  the  little  ones 
being  soon  exhibited  with  the  usual  motherly  pride. 


174        VENTURES   AND   ADVENTURES    OF   EZRA   MEEKER 

CHAPTER    XIX. 

TRIP    THROUGH    THE    NATCHESS    PASS — Continued. 

Readers  of  previous  chapters  will  remember  the  lone- 
ly camp  mentioned  and  the  steep  mountain  ahead  of  it  to 
reach  the  summit. 

What  with  the  sweat  incident  to  the  day's  travel,  the 
chill  air  of  an  October  night  in  the  mountains,  with  but 
half  of  a  three-point  blanket  as  covering  and  the  ground 
for  a  mattress,  small  wonder  my  muscles  were  a  little 
stiffened  when  I  arose  and  prepared  for  the  ascent  to 
the  summit.  Bobby  had,  as  I  have  said,  been  restless 
during  the  night,  and,  when  the  roll  of  blankets  and  the 
hard  bread  was  securely  strapped  on  behind,  suddenly 
turned  his  face  homeward,  evidently  not  relishing  the 
fare  of  browse  for  supper.  He  seemingly  had  concluded 
he  had  had  enough  of  the  trip,  and  started  to  go 
home,  trotting  off  gaily  down  the  mountain.  I  could 
do  nothing  else  but  follow  him,  as  the  narrow  cut  of  the 
road  and  impenetrable  obstructions  on  either  side  utterly 
precluded  my  getting  past  to  head  off  his  rascally 
maneuvers.  Finally,  finding  a  nip  of  grass  by  the  road- 
side, the  gait  was  slackened  so  that  after  several  futile 
attempts  I  managed  to  get  a  firm  hold  of  his  tail,  after 
which  we  went  down  the  mountain  together  much  more 
rapidly  than  we  had  come  up  the  evening  before.  Bobby 
forgot  to  use  his  heels,  else  he  might  for  a  longer  time 
been  master  of  the  situation.  The  fact  was,  he  did  not 
want  to  hurt  me,  but  was  determined  to  break  up  the 


TRIP    THROUGH   THE    NATCHESS    PASS  175 

partnership,  and,  so  far  as  he  was  concerned,  go  no  fur- 
ther into  the  mountains  where  he  could  not  get  a  supper. 
By  dint  of  persuasion  and  main  strength  of  muscle  the 
contest  was  finally  settled  in  my  favor,  and  I  secured 
the  rein.  Did  I  chastise  him?  Not  a  bit.  I  did  not 
blame  him.  We  were  partners,  but  it  was  a  one-sided 
partnership,  as  he  had  no  interest  in  the  enterprise  other 
than  to  get  enough  to  eat  as  we  went  along,  and  when 
that  failed,  rebelled. 

It  is  wonderful,  the  sagacity  of  the  horse  or  ox.  They 
know  more  than  we  usually  think  they  do.  Let  one  be 
associated  (yes,  that's  the  word,  associated)  with  them 
for  a  season  alone.  Their  characteristics  come  to  the 
front  and  become  apparent  without  study.  Did  I  talk 
to  my  friend,  Bobby  ?  Indeed,  I  did.  There  were  but 
few  other  animate  things  to  talk  to.  Perhaps  one  might 
see  a  small  bird  flit  across  the  vision  or  a  chipmunk,  or 
hear  the  whirr  of  the  sudden  flight  of  the  grouse,  but  all 
else  was  solitude,  deep  and  impressive.  The  dense  forest 
through  which  I  was  passing  did  not  supply  conditions 
for  bird  or  animal  life  in  profusion. 

"You  are  a  naughty  lad,  Bobby,"  I  said,  as  I  turned 
his  head  eastward  to  retrace  the  mile  or  so  of  the  truant's 
run. 

We  were  soon  past  our  camping  ground  of  the  niglit 
before,  and  on  our  way  up  the  mountain.  Bobby  would 
not  be  led,  or  if  he  was,  would  hold  back,  till  finally 
making  a  rush  up  the  steep  ascent,  would  be  on  my  heels 
or  toes  before  I  could  get  out  of  the  way.  "Go  ahead, 
Bobby,"  I  would  say,  and  suiting  action  to  words  seize 
the  tail  with  a  firm  grasp  and  follow.  When  he  moved 
rapidly,  by  holding  on,  I  was  helped  up  the  mountain. 


176   VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES  OP  EZRA  MEEKER 

When  he  slackened  his  pace,  then  came  the  resting  spell. 
The  engineering  instinct  of  the  horse  tells  him  how  to 
reduce  grades  by  angles.  So  Bobby  led  me  up  the  moun- 
tain in  zig-zag  courses,  I  following  always  with  the 
firm  grasp  of  the  tail  that  meant  we  would  not  part 
company,  and  we  did  not.  I  felt  that  it  was  a  mean  trick 
to  compel  the  poor  brute  to  pull  me  up  the  mountain 
by  his  tail,  supperless,  breakfastless,  and  discontented 
It  appeared  to  me  it  was  just  cause  to  sever  our  friend- 
ship, which  by  this  time  seemed  cemented  closely,  but 
then  I  thought  of  the  attempted  abandonment  he  had 
been  guilty  of,  and  that  perhaps  he  should  submit  to 
some  indignities  at  my  hand  in  consequence. 

By  noon  we  had  surmounted  all  obstacles,  and  stood 
upon  the  summit  prairie — one  of  them,  for  there  are 
several — where  Bobby  feasted  to  his  heart's  content, 
while  I — well,  it  was  the  same  old  story,  hard  tack  and 
cheese,  with  a  small  allotment  of  dried  venison. 

To  the  south  apparently  but  a  few  miles  distant,  the 
old  mountain,  Rainier  of  old,  Tacoma  by  Winthrop, 
loomed  up  into  the  clouds  full  ten  thousand  feet  higher 
than  where  I  stood,  a  grand  scene  to  behold,  worthy  of 
all  the  effort  expended  to  attain  this  view  point.  But 
I  was  not  attuned  to  view  with  ecstasy  the  grandeur  of 
what  lay  before  me,  but  rather  to  scan  the  horizon  to 
ascertain  if  I  could,  what  the  morrow  might  bring  forth. 
The  mountain  to  the  pioneer  has  served  as  a  huge  bar- 
ometer to  foretell  the  weather.  "How  is  the  mountain 
this  morning?"  the  farmer  asks  in  harvest  time.  "Has 
the  mountain  got  his  night  cap  on?"  the  housewife  in- 
quires before  her  wash  is  hung  on  the  line.  The  Indian 
would   watch   the   mountain    with   intent    to    determine 


TRIP    THROUGH    THE    NATCHESS    PASS  177 

whether  he  might  expect  "snass"  (rain),  or  "kull  snass" 
(hail),  or  "t'kope  snass"  (snow),  and  seldom  failed  in 
his  conclusions,  and  so  I  scanned  the  mountain  top  that 
day  partially  hid  in  the  clouds,  with  forebodings  verified 
at  night  fall,  as  will  be  related  later. 

The  next  camp  was  in  the  Natchess  Canyon.  I  had 
lingered  on  the  summit  prairie  to  give  the  pony  a  chance 
to  fill  up  on  the  luxuriant  but  rather  washy  grass,  there 
found  in  great  abundance.  For  myself,  I  had  had  plenty 
of  water,  but  had  been  stinted  in  hard  bread,  remember- 
ing my  experience  of  the  day  before,  with  the  famish- 
ing women  and  children.  I  began  to  realize  more  and 
more,  the  seriousness  of  my  undertaking,  particularly 
so,  because  I  could  hear  no  tidings.  A  light  snow  storm 
came  on  just  before  nightfall,  which,  with  the  high  moun- 
tains on  either  side  of  the  river,  spread  approaching 
darkness  rapidly.  I  was  loth  to  camp;  somehow  I  just 
wanted  to  go  on,  and  doubtless  would  have  traveled  all 
night  if  I  could  have  safely  found  my  way.  The  canyon 
was  but  a  few  hundred  yards  wide,  with  the  tortuous 
river  first  striking  one  bluff  and  then  the  other,  neces- 
sitating numerous  crossings;  the  intervening  space 
being  glade  land  of  large  pine  growth  with  but  light 
undergrowth  and  few  fallen  trees.  The  whole  surface 
was  covered  with  coarse  sand,  in  which  rounded  boulders 
were  imbedded  so  thick  in  places  as  to  cause  the  trail 
to  be  very  indistinct,  particularly  in  open  spots,  where 
the  snow  had  fallen  unobstructed.  Finally,  I  saw  that 
I  must  camp,  and  after  crossing  the  river,  came  out  in 
an  opening  where  the  bear  tracks  were  so  thick  that 
one  could  readily  believe  the  spot  to  be  a  veritable  play 
ground  for  all  the  animals  round  about. 


ITS   VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES  OP  EZRA  MEEKER 

I  found  two  good  sized  trunks  of  trees  that  had  fallen : 
one  obliquely  across  the  other,  and,  with  my  pony  teth- 
ered as  a  sentinel  and  my  lire  as  an  advance  post,  I 
slept  soundly,  but  nearly  supperless.  The  black  bears 
on  the  Avest  slope  of  the  mountain  I  knew  were  timid 
and  not  dangerous,  but  I  did  not  know  so  much  about 
the  mountain  species,  and  can  but  confess  that  I  felt 
lonesome,  though  placing  great  reliance  upon  my  fire, 
which  I  kept  burning  all  night. 

Early  next  morning  found  Bobby  and  me  on  the  trail, 
a  little  chilled  with  the  cold  mountain  air  and  very  will- 
ing to  travel.  In  a  hundred  yards  or  so,  we  came  upon 
a  ford  of  ice  cold  water  to  cross,  and  others  following 
in  such  quick  succession,  that  I  realized  that  we  were 
soon  to  leave  the  canyon.  I  had  been  told  that  at  the 
32nd  crossing  I  would  leave  the  canyon  and  ascend  a 
high  mountain,  and  then  travel  through  pine  glades, 
and  that  I  must  then  be  careful  and  not  lose  the  trail. 
I  had  not  kept  strict  account  of  the  crossings  like  one 
of  the  men  I  had  met,  who  cut  a  notch  in  his  goad  stick 
at  every  crossing,  but  I  knew  instinctively  we  were 
nearly  out,  and  so  I  halted  to  eat  what  I  supposed  would 
be  the  only  meal  of  the  day,  not  dreaming  what  lay  in 
store  for  me  at  nightfall.  It  would  be  uninteresting 
to  the  general  reader  to  relate  the  details  of  that  day's 
travel,  and  in  fact  I  cannot  recall  much  about  it,  ex- 
cept going  up  the  steep  mountain;  so  steep  that  Bobby 
again  practiced  his  engineering  instincts  and  I  mine, 
with  my  selfish  hand  having  a  firm  hold  on  the  tail  of 
my  now  patient  comrade. 

From  the  top  of  the  mountain  glade  I  looked  back  in 


TRIP   THROUGH    THE   NATCHESS    PASS  179 

wonderment  about  how  the  immigrants  had  taken  their 
wagons  clown;  I  found  out  by  experience  afterwards. 

Towards  nightfall  I  found  a  welcome  sound  of  the 
tinkling  of  a  bell,  and  soon  saw  the  smoke  of  camp  fires, 
and  finally  the  village  of  tents  and  grime  covered  wag- 
ons. How  I  tugged  at  Bobby's  halter  to  make  him  go 
faster,  and  then  mounted  him  with  not  much  better  re- 
sults, can  better  be  imagined  than  told. 

Could  it  be  the  camp  I  was  searching  for?  It  was 
about  the  number  of  wagons  and  tents  that  I  had  ex- 
pected to  meet.  No.  I  was  doomed  to  disappointment, 
yet  rejoiced  to  find  some  one  to  camp  with  and  talk  to 
other  than  the  pony. 

It  is  not  easy  to  describe  the  cordial  greeting  accorded 
me  by  those  tired  and  almost  discouraged  immigrants. 
If  we  had  been  near  and  dear  relatives,  the  rejoicing 
could  not  have  been  mutually  greater.  They  had  been 
toiling  for  nearly  five  months  on  the  road  across  the 
plains,  and  now  there  loomed  up  before  them  this  great 
mountain  range  to  cross.  Could  they  do  it?  If  we 
cannot  get  over  with  our  wagons,  can  we  get  the  women 
and  children  through  in  safety?  I  was  able  to  lift  a 
load  of  doubt  and  fear  from  off  their  jaded  minds.  Be- 
fore I  knew  what  was  happening,  I  caught  the  frag- 
rance of  boiling  coffee  and  of  fresh  meat  cooking.  It 
seemed  the  good  matrons  knew  without  telling  that  I 
was  hungry  (I  doubtless  looked  it),  and  had  set  to  work 
to  prepare  me  a  meal,  a  sumptuous  meal  at  that,  tak- 
ing into  account  the  whetted  appetite  incident  to  a  diet 
of  hard  bread  straight,  and  not  much  of  that  either, 
for  two  days. 


180    VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

We  had  met  on  the  hither  bank  of  the  Yakima  River, 
where  tlm  old  trail  crosses  that  river  near  where  the 
flourishing  city  of  North  Yakima  now  is.  These  were  the 
people,  a  part  of  them,  that  are  mentioned  elsewhere  in  my 
"Tragedy  of  Lesehi,"  in  the  chapter  on  the  White  River 
massacre.  Harvey  H.  Jones,  wife  and  three  children,  and 
George  E.  King,  wife  and  one  child.  One  of  the  little  boys 
of  the  camp  is  the  same  person — John  I.  King — who  has 
written  the  graphic  account  of  the  tragedy  that  follows,  in 
which  his  mother  and  step  father  and  their  neighbors 
lost  their  lives — that  horrible  massacre  on  White  River 
a  year  later,  and  the  other,  George  E.  King,  (but  no 
relation)  the  little  five-year-old  who  was  taken  and  held 
captive  for  nearly  four  months,  and  then  safely  deliv- 
ered over  by  the  Indians  to  the  military  authorities  at 
Fort  Steilacoom.  I  never  think  of  those  people  but 
with  feelings  of  sadness ;  of  their  struggle,  doubtless 
the  supreme  effort  of  their  lives,  to  go  to  their  death. 
I  pointed  out  to  them  where  to  go  to  get  good  claims, 
and  they  lost  no  time,  but  went  straight  to  the  locality 
recommended  and  immediately  to  work,  preparing  shel- 
ter for  the  winter. 

"Are  you  going  out  on  those  plains  alone?"  asked 
Mrs.  Jones,  anxiously.  When  informed  that  I  would 
have  the  pony  with  me,  a  faint,  sad  smile  spread  over 
her  countenance  as  she  said,  "Well,  I  don't  think  it  is 
safe."  Mr.  Jones  explained  that  what  his  wife  referred 
to  was  the  danger  from  the  ravenous  wolves  that  in- 
fested the  open  country,  and  from  which  they  had  lost 
weakened  stock  from  their  bold  forages,  "right  close 
to  the  camp,"  he  said,  and  advised  me  not  to  camp  near 
the  watering  places,  but  up  on  the  high  ridge.     I  fol- 


TRIP    THROUGH   THE    NATCHESS    PASS  181 

lowed  his  advice  with  the  result  as  we  shall  see  of  miss- 
ing my  road  and  losing  considerable  time,  and  causing 
me  not  a  little  trouble  and  anxiety. 


182   VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES  OP  EZRA  MEEKER 

CHAPTER  XX. 

TRIP    THROUGH    THE    NATCHESS    PASS — Continued. 

The  start  for  the  high  table  desert  lands  bordering 
the  Yakima  valley  cut  me  loose  from  all  communication, 
for  no  more  immigrants  were  met  until  I  reached  the 
main  traveled  route  beyond  the  Columbia  River.  I  speak 
of  the  "desert  lands"  adjacent  to  the  Yakima  from  the 
standpoint  of  that  day.  We  all  thought  these  lands  were 
worthless,  as  well  as  the  valley,  not  dreaming  of  the  un- 
told wealth  the  touch  of  water  would  bring  out.  The  road 
lay  through  a  forbidding  sage  plain,  or  rather  an  undu- 
lating country,  seemingly  of  shifting  sands  and  dead 
grass  of  comparatively  scant  growth.  As  the  sun  rose 
heat  became  intolerable.  The  dust  brought  vivid  memo- 
ries of  the  trip  across  the  plains  in  places.  The  heated 
air  trembling  in  the  balance  brought  the  question  of 
whether  or  not  something  was  the  matter  with  my  eyes 
or  brain;  whether  this  was  an  optical  illusion,  or  real, 
became  a  debatable  question  in  my  mind.  Strive  against 
it  with  all  my  might,  my  eyes  would  rest  on  the  farther 
horizon  to  catch  the  glimpse  of  the  expected  train,  till 
they  fairly  ached.  Added  to  this,  an  intolerable  thirst 
seized  upon  me,  and  compelled  leaving  the  road  and 
descending  into  the  valley  for  water.  Here  I  found  as 
fat  cattle  as  ever  came  to  a  butcher's  stall,  fed  on  this 
self  same  dead  grass,  cured  without  rain.  These  cattle 
belonged  to  the  Indians,  but  there  were  no  Indians  in 
sight.     The  incident,  though,   set  me  to  thinking  about 


TRIP   THROUGH    THE    NATCHESS   PASS  183 

the  possibilities  of  a  country  that  could  produce  such 
fat  cattle  from  the  native  grasses.  I  must  not  linger 
off  the  trail,  and  take  chances  of  missing  the  expected 
train,  and  so  another  stretch  of  travel,  of  thirst,  and  suf- 
fering came  until  during  the  afternoon,  I  found  water 
on  the  trail,  and  tethered  my  pony  for  his  much  needed 
dinner,  and  opened  my  sack  of  hard  bread  to  count  the 
contents,  with  the  conclusion  that  my  store  was  half 
gone,  and  so  lay  down  in  the  shade  of  a  small  tree  or 
bush  near  the  spring  to  take  an  afternoon  nap.  Rous- 
ing up  before  sun  down,  refreshed,  Ave  (pony  and  I), 
took  the  trail  in  a  much  better  mood  than  before  the 
nooning.  When  night  came,  I  could  not  find  it  in  my 
heart  to  camp.  The  cool  of  the  evening  invigorated  the 
pony,  and  we  pushed  on.  Without  having  intended  to 
travel  in  the  night.  I  had,  so  to  speak,  drifted  into  it 
and  finding  the  road  could  be  followed,  though  but 
dimly  seen,  kept  on  the  way  until  a  late  hour,  when  I 
unsaddled  and  hobbled  the  pony.  The  saddle  blanket' 
was  brought  into  use,  and  I  was  soon  off  in  dream  land, 
and  forgot  all  about  the  dust,  the  train  or  the  morrow. 

Morning  brought  a  puzzling  sense  of  helplessness  that 
for  the  time,  seemed  overpowering.  I  had  slept  late,  and 
awoke  to  find  the  pony  had  wandered  far  off  on  the  hill 
side,  in  fact,  so  far,  it  required  close  scanning  to  dis- 
cover him.  To  make  matters  worse,  his  hobbles  had 
became  loosened,  giving  him  free  use  of  all  his  feet,  and 
in  no  mood  to  take  the  trail  again.  Coaxing  was  of  no 
avail,  driving  would  do  no  good,  so  embracing  an  oppor- 
tunity to  seize  his  tail  again,  we  went  around  about 
over  the  plain  and  through  the  sage  brush  in  a  rapid 
gait,  which  finally  lessened  and  I  again  became  master 


184   VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

of  him.  For  the  life  of  me  I  could  not  be  sure  as  to  the 
direction  of  the  trail,  but  happened  to  take  the  right 
course.  When  the  trail  was  found,  the  question  came 
as  to  the  whereabouts  of  the  saddle.  It  so  happened 
that  I  took  the  wrong  direction  and  had  to  retrace  my 
steps.    The  sun  was  high  when  we  started  on  our  journey. 

A  few  hundred  yards  travel  brought  feelings  of  un- 
easiness, as  it  was  evident  that  we  were  not  on  the 
regular  trail.  Not  knowing  but  this  was  some  cut  off, 
so  continued  until  the  Columbia  Kiver  bluff  was  reached, 
and  the  great  river  was  in  sight,  half  a  mile  distant, 
and  several  hundred  feet  of  lower  level.  Taking  a  trail 
down  the  bluff  that  seemed  more  promising  than  the 
wagon  tracks,  I  began  to  search  for  the  road  at  the  foot 
of  the  bluff  to  find  the  tracks  scattered,  and  any  resem- 
blance of  a  road  gone ;  in  a  word,  I  was  lost.  I  never 
knew  how  those  wagon  tracks  came  to  be  there,  but  I 
know  that  I  lost  more  than  a  half  day's  precious  time, 
and  again  was  thrown  in  a  doubting  mood  as  to  whether 
I  had  missed  the  long  sought  for  train. 

The  next  incident  I  remember  vividly,  was  my  attempt 
to  cross  the  Columbia  just  below  the  mouth  of  Snake 
River.  I  had  seen  but  few  Indians  on  the  whole  trip, 
and  in  fact,  the  camp  I  found  there  on  the  bank  of  the 
great  river  was  the  first  I  distinctly  remember.  I  could 
not  induce  them  to  cross  me  over.  From  some  cause 
they  seemed  surly  and  unfriendly.  The  treatment  was 
so  in  contrast  to  what  I  had  received  from  the  Indians 
on  the  Sound,  that  I  could  not  help  wondering  what  it 
meant.  No  one,  to  my  knowledge,  lost  his  life  by  the 
hands  of  the  Indians  that  season,  but  the  next  summer 


TRIP   THROUGH   THE    NATCHESS    PASS  185 

all,  or  nearly  all,  were  ruthlessly  murdered  that  ven- 
tured into  that  country  unprotected. 

That  night  I  camped  late,  opposite  Wallula  (old  Fort 
Walla  Walla),  in  a  sand  storm  of  great  fury.  I  tethered 
my  pony  this  time,  rolled  myself  up  in  the  blanket,  only 
to  find  myself  fairly  buried  in  the  drifting  sand  in  the 
morning.  It  required  a  great  effort  to  creep  out  of  the 
blanket,  and  greater  work  to  relieve  the  blanket  from  the 
accumulated  sand.  By  this  time  the  wind  had  laid  and 
comparative  calm  prevailed,  and  then  came  the  effort  to 
make  myself  heard  across  the  wide  river  to  the  people 
of  the  fort.  It  did  seem  as  though  I  would  fail.  Travel- 
ing up  and  down  the  river  bank  for  half  a  mile,  or  so, 
in  the  hope  of  catching  a  favorable  breeze  to  carry 
my  voice  to  the  fort,  yet,  all  to  no  avail.  I  sat  upon  the 
bank  hopelessly  discouraged,  not  knowing  what  to  do. 
I  think  I  must  have  been  two  hours  halloaing  at  the 
top  of  my  voice  until  hoarse  from  the  violent  effort. 
Finally,  while  sitting  there,  cogitating  as  to  what  to 
do,  I  spied  a  blue  smoke  arising  from  the  cabin,  and 
soon  after  a  man  appeared  who  immediately  responded 
to  my  renewed  efforts  to  attract  attention.  The  trouble 
had  been  they  were  all  asleep,  while  I  was  in  the  early 
morning  expending  my  breath. 

Shirley  Ensign,  of  Olympia,  had  established  a  ferry 
across  the  Columbia  River,  and  had  yet  lingered  to  set 
over  belated  immigrants,  if  any  came.  Mr.  Ensign 
came  over  and  gave  me  glad  tidings.  He  had  been  out 
on  the  trail  fifty  miles  or  more,  and  had  met  my  people, 
whom  he  thought  were  camped  some  thirty  miles  away, 
and  thought  that  they  would  reach  the  ferry  on  the  fol- 
lowing day.     But  I  would  not  wait,   and,   procuring   a 


186   VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

fresh  horse,  I  started  out  in  a  cheerful  mood,  determined 
to  reach  camp  that  night  if  my  utmost  exertions  would 
accomplish  it.  Sundown  came  and  no  signs  of  camp ; 
dusk  came  on,  and  still  no  signs;  finally,  I  spied  some 
cattle  grazing  on  the  upland,  and  soon  came  upon  the 
camp  in  a  ravine  that  had  shut  them  out  from  view. 
Eejoicing  aud  outbursts  of  grief  followed.  I  inquired 
for  my  mother  the  first  thing.  She  was  not  there;  had 
been  buried  in  the  sands  of  the  Platte  valley,  months 
before ;  also  a  younger  brother  lay  buried  near  Inde- 
pendence rock.  The  scene  that  followed  is  of  too  sacred 
memory  to  write  about,  and  we  will  draw  the  veil  of 
privacy  over  it. 

Of  that  party,  all  are  under  the  sod  save  two — Mrs. 
Lulu  Packard,  now  of  Portland,  Oregon,  and  Mrs. 
Amanda  C.  Spinning,  then  the  wife  of  the  elder  brother 
so  often  heretofore  mentioned. 

With  fifty  odd  head  of  stock,  seven  wagons,  and  sev- 
enteen people,  the  trip  was  made  to  the  Sound  without 
serious  mishap  or  loss.  We  were  twenty-two  days  on 
the  road,  and  thought  this  was  good  time  to  make,  all 
things  considered.  Provisions  were  abundant,  the 
health  of  the  party  good,  and  stock  in  fair  condition. 
I  unhesitatingly  advised  the  over-mountain  trip;  mean- 
while cautioning  them  to  expect  some  snow,  a  goodly 
amount  of  hard  labor,  and  plenty  of  vexation.  How 
long  will  it  take?  Three  weeks.  Why,  we  thought  we 
were  about  through.  Well,  you  came  to  stay  with  us, 
did  you?  But  what  about  the  little  wife  and  the  two 
babies  on  the  island  home?  Father  said  some  one  must 
go  and  look  after  them.  So,  the  elder  brother  was  de- 
tailed to  go  to  the  island  folks,  whilst  I  was  impressed 


TRIP   THROUGH    THE    NATCHESS    PASS  187 

into  service  to  take  his  place  with  the  immigrants.  It 
would  hardly  be  interesting  to  the  general  reader  to 
give  a  detailed  account,  even  if  I  remembered  it  well, 
which  I  do  not.  So  intent  did  we  all  devote  our  energies 
to  the  one  object,  to  get  safely  over  the  mountains,  that 
all  else  was  forgotten.  It  was  a  period  of  severe  toil 
and  anxious  care,  but  not  more  so  than  to  others  that 
had  gone  before  us,  and  what  others  had  done  we  felt 
we  could  do,  but  there  was  no  eight-hour-a-day  labor, 
nor  any  drones;  all  were  workers.  I  had  prepared  the 
minds  of  the  new-comers  for  the  worst,  not  forgetting 
the  steep  hills,  the  notched  logs,  and  rough,  stony  fords, 
by  telling  the  whole  story.  But  do  you  really  think  we 
can  get  through?  said  father.  Yes,  I  know  we  can,  if 
every  man  will  put  his  shoulder  to  the  wheel.  This  latter 
expression  was  a  phrase  in  use  to  indicate  doing  one's 
duty  without  flinching,  but  in  this  case,  it  had  a  more 
literal  meaning,  for  we  were  compelled  often  to  take 
hold  of  the  wheels  to  boost  the  wagons  over  logs,  and 
ease  them  down  on  the  opposite  side,  as  likewise,  on  the 
steep  mountain  side.  We  divided  our  force  into  groups; 
one  to  each  wagon  to  drive,  four  as  wheelmen  as  we 
called  them,  and  father  with  the  women  folks  on  foot, 
or  on  horseback,  with  the  stock. 

God  bless  the  women  folks  of  the  plains;  the  immi- 
grant women,  I  mean.  A  nobler,  braver,  more  uncom- 
plaining people  were  never  known.  I  have  often  thought 
that  some  one  ought  to  write  a  just  tribute  to  their 
valor  and  patience;  a  book  of  their  heroic  deeds.  1 
know  this  word  valor,  is  supposed  to  apply  to  men  and 
not  to  women,  but  I  know  that  the  immigrant  women 
earned  the  right  to  have  the  word,   and  all  it  implies. 


188   VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

applied  to  them.  Such  a  trip  with  all  its  trials  is  almost 
worth  the  price  to  bring  out  these  latent  virtues  of  the 
so-called  weaker  sex.  Strive,  however,  as  best  we  could, 
we  were  unable  to  make  the  trip  in  the  alloted  time,  and 
willing  hands  came  out  with  the  brother  to  put  their 
shoulders  to  the  wheels,  and  to  bring  the  glad  tidings 
that  all  was  well  on  the  island  home,  and  to  release  the 
younger  brother  and  the  father  from  further  duty,  when 
almost  through  to  the  settlements. 

Do  you  say  this  was  enduring  great  hardships  ?  That 
depends  upon  the  point  of  view.  As  to  this  return  trip, 
for  myself,  I  can  truly  say  that  it  was  not.  I  enjoyed 
the  strife  to  overcome  all  difficulties,  and  so  did  the 
greater  number  of  the  company.  They  felt  that  it  was 
a  duty  and  enjoyed  doing  their  duty.  Many  of  them, 
it  is  true,  were  weakened  by  the  long  trip  across  the 
plains,  but  with  the  better  food  obtainable,  and  the  goal 
so  near  at  hand,  there  was  a  positive  pleasure  to  pass 
over  the  miles,  one  by  one,  and  become  assured  that 
final  success  was  only  a  matter  of  a  very  short  time. 

One  day,  we  encountered  a  new  fallen  tree,  as  one 
of  the  men  said,  a  whopper,  cocked  up  on  its  own  up- 
turned roots,  four  feet  from  the  ground.  Go  around  it, 
we  could  not;  to  cut  it  out  seemed  an  endless  task 
with  our  dulled,  flimsy  saw.  Dig  down,  boys,  said  the 
father,  and  in  short  order  every  available  shovel  was 
out  of  the  wagons  and  into  willing  hands,  with  others 
standing  by  to  take  their  turn.  In  a  short  time  the  way 
was  open  fully  four  feet  deep,  and  oxen  and  wagons 
passed  through  under  the  obstruction. 


TRIP    THROUGH    THE    NATCHESS    PASS  189 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

TRIP  THROUGH  THE  NATCHESS  PASS 

People  now  traversing  what  is  popularly  known  as 
Nisqually  Plains,  that  is,  the  stretch  of  open  prairie, 
interpersed  with  clumps  of  timber,  sparkling  lakes,  and 
glade  lands,  from  the  heavy  timber  bordering  the  Puy- 
allup  to  a  like  border  of  the  Nisqually,  will  hardly 
realize  that  once  upon  a  time  these  bare  gravelly  prairies 
supplied  a  rich  grass  of  exceeding  fattening  quality  of 
sufficient  quantity  to  support  many  thousand  head  of 
stock,  and  not  only  support  but  fatten  them  ready  for 
the  butcher's  stall.  Nearly  half  a  million  acres  of  this 
land  lie  between  the  two  rivers,  from  two  to  four  hun- 
dred feet  above  tide  level  and  beds  of  the  rivers  men- 
tioned, undulating  and  in  benches,  an  ideal  park  of 
shade  and  open  land  of  rivulets  and  lakes,  of  natural 
roads  and  natural  scenery  of  splendor. 

So,  when  our  little  train  emerged  from  the  forests 
skirting  the  Puyallup  valley,  and  came  out  on  the  open 
at  Montgomery's,  afterwards  Camp  Montgomery,  of 
Indian  war  times,  twelve  miles  southeasterly  of  Fort 
Steilacoom,  the  experience  was  almost  as  if  one  had 
come  into  a  noonday  sun  from  a  dungeon  prison, 
so  marked  was  the  contrast.  Hundreds  of  cattle,  sheep 
and  horses  were  quietly  grazing,  scattered  over  the 
landscape,  so  far  as  one  could  see,  fat  and  content.  It 
is  not  to  be  wondered  that  the  spirits  of  the  tired  party 
should   rise    as   thev   saw   this    scene    of   content   before 


190        VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

them,  and  thought  they  could  become  participants  with 
those  who  had  come  before  them,  and  that  for  the  mo- 
ment rest  was  theirs  if  that  was  what  they  might  choose. 

Fort  Nisqually  was  about  ten  miles  southwesterly 
from  our  camp  at  Montgomery's,  built,  as  mentioned 
elsewhere,  by  the  Hudson  Bay  Company,  in  1833. 

In  1840-41,  this  company's  holdings  at  Nisqually  and 
Cowlitz  were  transferred  to  the  Puget  Sound  Agricul- 
tural Company.  This  latter  company  was  organized  in 
London  at  the  instance  of  Dr.  "William  F.  Tolmie,  who 
visited  that  city  to  conduct  the  negotiations  in  person 
with  the  directors  of  the  Hudson  Bay  Company.  He 
returned  clothed  with  the  power  to  conduct  the  affairs 
of  the  new  company,  but  under  the  direction  of  the 
Hudson  Bay  Company,  and  with  the  restriction  not  to 
enter  into  or  interfere  with  the  fur  trade ;  he  later  became 
the  active  agent  of  both  companies  at  Nisqually. 

It  was  principally  the  stock  of  this  company  that  we 
saw  from  our  camp  and  near  by  points.  At  that  time, 
the  Agricultural  Company  had  several  farms  on  these 
plains,  considerable  pasture  land  enclosed,  and  four- 
teen thousand  head  of  stock  running  at  large;  sheep 
cattle  and  horses. 

The  United  States  government  actually  paid  rent  to 
this  foreign  company  for  many  years  for  the  site  where 
Fort  Steilacoom  was  located  on  account  of  the  shadowy 
title  of  the  company  under  the  treaty  of  1846. 

During  this  lapse  of  time,  from  1833  to  the  time  our 
camp  was  established,  many  of  the  company's  servants 
time  had  expired  and  in  almost  every  case,  such  had 
taken  to  themselves  Indian  wives  and  had  squatted  on 
the  choice  locations  for  grazing  or  small  farming.    Mont- 


TRIP   THROUGH   THE    NATCHESS    PASS  191 

gomery  himself,  near  whose  premises  we  were  camping, 
was  one  of  these.  A  few  miles  to  the  south  of  this  place, 
ran  the  small  creek  "Muck,"  on  the  surface  for  several 
miles  to  empty  into  the  Nisqually.  Along  this  little 
creek,  others  of  these  discharged  servants  had  settled, 
and  all  taken  Indian  wives.  These  were  the  settlers 
that  were  afterwards  denounced  by  Governor  Stevens, 
and  finally  arrested  for  alleged  treason.  Each  of  these  had 
abundance  of  stock  and  farm  produce,  and  was  living  in 
affluence  and  comfort.  One  of  them,  reputed  to  be  the 
rightful  owner  of  thirteen  cows,  one  summer  raised  thirty- 
three  calves,  the  handy  lasso  rope  having  been  brought 
into  play  among  the  company's  herds  in  secluded  places; 
yet,  as  the  rule,  these  people  were  honorable,  upright 
men,  though  as  a  class,  not  of  high  intelligence,  or  of 
sober  habits. 

Added  to  this  class  just  mentioned,  was  another ;  the 
discharged  United  States  soldiers.  The  men  then  com- 
prising the  United  States  army  were  far  lower  in  moral 
worth  and  character  than  now.  Many  of  these  men 
had  also  taken  Indian  wives  and  settled  where  they  had 
chosen  to  select.  Added  to  these  were  a  goodly  number 
of  the  previous  years'  immigrants.  By  this  recital  the 
reader  will  be  apprised  of  the  motley  mess  our  little 
party  were  destined  to  settle  among,  unless  they  should 
choose  to  go  to  other  parts  of  the  Territory.  I  did  not 
myself  fully  realize  the  complications  to  be  met  until 
later  years. 

All  this  while,  as  we  have  said,  settlers  were  crowd- 
ing into  this  district,  taking  up  donation  claims  until 
that  act  expired  by  limitation  in  1854,  and  afterwards 
by  squatter's  rights,   which  to   all  appearances,   seemed 


192        VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

as  good  as  any.  My  own  donation  claim  afterwards  was 
involved  in  this  controversy,  in  common  with  many 
others.  Although  our  proofs  of  settlement  were  made 
and  ;ill  requirements  of  the  law  complied  with,  neverthe- 
Less,  our  patents  were  held  up  and  our  title  questioned 
for  twenty  years,  and  so,  after  having  made  the  trip 
across  the  plains,  because  Uncle  Sam  had  promised  to 
give  us  all  a  farm,  and  after  having  made  the  required 
improvements  and  resided  on  the  land  for  the  four  years, 
then  to  be  crowded  off  without  title  did  seem  a  little 
rough  on  the  pioneers. 

I  have  before  me  one  of  the  notices  served  upon  the 
settlers  by  the  company's  agent  which  tells  the  whole 
story.*  The  then  thriving  town  of  Steilaeoom  was  in- 
volved, as  likewise  part  of  the  lands  set  apart  for  the 
Indian  Reversation,  and  it  did  seem  as  though  it  would 
be  hard  to  get  a  more  thorough  mix-up  as  to  titles  of  the 
land,  than  these  knotty  questions  presented. 

All  this  while,  as  was  natural  there  should  be,  there 
was  constant  friction  between  some  settler  and  the  com- 
pany, and  had  it  not  been  for  the  superior  tact  of  such 

*  ORIGINAL   WARNING    TO    THOMAS    HADLET. 

We  hereby  certify  that  a  correct  copy  of  the  within  notice  was 
presented  to  T.  Hadley  bv  Mr.  Wm.  Greig  this  6th  dav  of  April,  1857. 

WILLIAM   GREIG. 
ALFRED  McNEILL. 
AMBROSE    SKINNER. 

Nisqually,  W.  T..  12th  March,  1857. 
To  Mr.  Thomas  Hadley. — Sir:  I  hereby  warn  you  that,  in  culti- 
vating land  and  making  other  improvements  on  your  present  location 
in  or  near  the  Talentire  precinct.  Pierce  County,  Washington  Terri- 
tory, you  are  trespassing  on  the  lands  confirmed  to  the  Puget's 
Sound  Agricultural  Company  by  the  Boundary  Treaty,  ratified  in 
July,  1846,  between  Great  Britain  and  the  United  States  of  America. 
Very  Respectfully  Tour  Obed't  Servt., 

W.   F.   TOLMIE. 
Agent  Puget's  Sound  Agricultural  Company. 


TRIP   THROUGH   THE   NATCHESS    PASS  193 

a  man  as  Dr.  Tolmie  in  charge  of  the  company's  affairs, 
there  would  have  been  serious  trouble. 

As  it  was,  there  finally  came  a  show  of  arms  when  the 
company  undertook  to  survey  the  boundary  line  to  in- 
close the  land  claimed,  although  the  acreage  was  much 
less  than  claimed  on  paper.  But  the  settlers,  (or  some 
of  them),  rebelled,  and  six  of  them  went  armed  to  the 
party  of  surveyors  at  work  and  finally  stopped  them. 
An  old-time  friend,  John  McLeod,  was  one  of  the  party 
(mob,  the  company  called  it),  but  the  records  do  not 
show  whether  he  read  his  chapter  in  the  Bible  that  day, 
or  whether  instead,  he  took  a  double  portion  of  whiskey 
to  relieve  his  conscience. 

It  is  doubtful  whether  the  old  man  thought  he  was 
doing  wrong  or  thought  anything  about  it,  except  that 
he  had  a  belief  that  somehow  or  other  a  survey  might 
make  against  him  getting  a  title  to  his  own  claim. 

I  had  similar  experience  at  a  later  date  with  the 
Indians  near  the  Muckleshute  Keservation,  as  elsewhere 
related,  while  attempting  to  extend  the  sub-divisional 
lines  of  the  township  near  where  the  reserve  was  located. 
I  could  not  convince  the  Indians  that  the  survey  meant 
no  harm  to  them. 

The  case  was  different  in  the  first  instance,  as  in  fact, 
neither  party  was  acting  within  the  limits  of  their  legal 
rights,  and  for  the  time  being,  the  strongest  and  most 
belligerent  prevailed,  but  only  to  be  circumvented  at  a 
little  later  date  by  a  secret  completion  of  the  work,  suf- 
ficient to  platting  the  whole. 

All  this  while  the  little  party  was  halting.  The  father 
said  the  island  home  would  not  do,  and  as  he  had  come 
two  thousand   miles  to   live  neighbors,  I  must   give  up 


194        VENTURES   AND   ADVENTURES   OP   EZRA   MEEKER 

my  claim  and  take  another  near  theirs,  and  so,  aband- 
oning over  a  year's  hard  work,  I  acted  upon  his  request 
with  the  result  told  elsewhere,  of  fleeing  from  our  new 
chosen  home,  as  we  supposed,  to  save  our  lives,  upon  the 
outbreak  of  the  Indian  War  in  less  than  a  year  from 
the  time  of  the  camp  mentioned. 

One  can  readily  see  that  these  surroundings  did  not 
promise  that  compact,  staid  settlement  of  energetic,  wide 
awake  pioneers  we  so  coveted,  nevertheless,  the  promise 
of  money  returns  was  good,  and  that  served  to  allay  any 
discontent  that  would  otherwise  arise.  I  remember  the 
third  year  we  began  selling  eighteen  months'  old  steers 
at  fifty  dollars  each,  off  the  range  that  had  never  been 
fed  a  morsel.  Our  butter  sold  for  fifty  cents  a  pound, 
and  at  times,  seventy-five  cents,  and  many  other  things 
at  like  prices.  No  wonder  all  hands  soon  became  con- 
tented ;  did  not  have  time  to  be  otherwise. 

It  came  about  though,  that  we  were  in  considerable 
part  a  community  within  ourselves,  yet,  there  were 
many  excellent  people  in  the  widely  scattered  settle- 
ments. The  conditions  to  some  extent  encouraged  law- 
lessness, and  within  the  class  already  mentioned,  a  good 
deal  of  drunkeness  and  what  one  might  well  designate 
as  loose  morals,  incident  to  the  surroundings.  A  case  in 
point : 

A  true,  though  one  might  say  a  humorous  story  is 
told  on  Doctor  Tolmie,  or  one  of  his  men,  of  visiting  a 
settler  where  they  knew  one  of  their  beeves  had  been 
slaughtered  and  appropriated.  To  get  direct  evidence 
he  put  himself  in  the  way  of  an  invitation  to  dinner, 
where,  sure  enough,  the  fresh,  fat  beef  was  smoking  on 
the  table.     The    good    old  pioneer   (I  knew  him  well), 


TRIP  THROUGH  THE   NATCHESS   PASS  195 

asked  a  good,  old-fashioned  Methodist  blessing  over  the 
meat,  giving  thanks  for  the  bountiful  supply  of  the  many 
good  things  of  the  world  vouchsafed  to  him  and  his 
neighbors,  and  thereupon  in  true  pioneer  hospitality,  cut 
a  generous  sized  piece  of  the  roast  for  his  guest,  the  real 
owner  of  the  meat. 

This  incident  occurred  just  as  here  related,  and 
although  the  facts  are  as  stated,  yet  we  must  not  be  too 
ready  to  scoff  at  our  religious  friend  and  condemn  him 
without  a  hearing.  To  me,  it  would  have  been  just  as 
direct  thieving  as  any  act  could  have  been,  and  yet,  to 
our  sanctified  friend  I  think  it  was  not,  and  upon  which 
thereby  hangs  a  tale. 

Many  of  the  settlers  looked  upon  the  company  as 
interlopers,  pure  and  simple,  without  any  rights  they 
were  bound  to  respect.  There  had  been  large  numbers 
of  cattle  and  sheep  run  on  the  range  and  had  eaten  the 
feed  down,  which  they  thought  was  robbing  them  of 
their  right  of  eminent  domain  for  the  land  they  claimed 
the  government  had  promised  to  give  them. 

The  cattle  became  very  wild,  in  great  part  on  ac- 
count of  the  settlers'  actions,  but  the  curious  part  was 
they  afterwards  justified  themselves  from  the  fact  that 
they  were  wild,  and  so  it  happened  there  came  very  near 
being  claim  of  common  property  of  the  company's  stock, 
with  not  a  few  of  the  settlers. 

One  lawless  act  is  almost  sure  to  breed  another,  and 
there  was  no  exception  to  the  rule  in  this  strange  com- 
munity, and  many  is  the  settler  that  can  remember  the 
disappearance  of  stock  which  could  be  accounted  for  in 
but  one  way — gone  with  the  company's  herd.  In  a  few 
years,  though,   all  this  disappeared.     The  incoming  im- 


196   VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES  OP  EZRA  MEEKER 

migrants  from  across  the  plains  were  a  sturdy  set  as  a 
class,  and  soon  frowned  down  such  a  loose  code  of 
morals. 

For  a  moment  let  us  turn  to  the  little  camp  on  the 
edge  of  the  prairie,  of  seven  wagons  and  three  tents. 
There  came  a  time  it  must  be  broken  up.  No  more 
camp  fires,  with  the  fragrant  coffee  morning  and  even- 
ing; no  more  smoking  the  pipe  together  over  jests,  or 
serious  talk;  no  more  tucks  in  the  dresses  of  the  ladies, 
compelled  first  by  the  exigencies  of  daily  travel  and  now 
to  be  parted  with  under  the  inexorable  law  of  custom 
or  fashion;  no  more  lumps  of  butter  at  night,  churned 
during  the  day  by  the  movement  of  wagon  and  the  can 
containing  the  morning's  milk.  We  must  hie  us  off  to 
prepare  shelter  from  the  coming  storms  of  winter;  to  the 
care  of  the  stock ;  the  preparations  for  planting ;  to  the 
beginning  of  a  new  life  of  independence. 


TRIP    THROUGH    THE    NATCHESS    PASS  197 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

TRIP    THROUGH    THE    NATCHESS    PASS — Concluded. 

It  almost  goes  without  saying,  that  before  the  final 
break  up  of  the  camp  and  separation  of  the  parties  there 
must  be  some  sort  of  a  celebration  of  the  event,  a  sort 
of  house  warming  or  surprise  party — something  must 
be  done  out  of  the  usual  course  of  events.  So,  what 
better  could  these  people  do  than  to  visit  the  island* 
home  they  had  heard  so  much  about,  and  see  for  them- 
selves some  of  the  wonder  land  described. 

My  cabin  stood  on  the  south  side  of  the  bight  or 
lagoon  within  stone  throw  of  where  the  United  States 
penitentiary  now  stands  and  only  a  few  feet  above  high 
tide  level.  The  lagoon  widens  and  deepens  from  the 
entrance  and  curves  to  the  south  with  gentle  slope  on 
either  side,  the  whole  forming  a  miniature  sheltered  val- 
ley of  light,  timbered,  fertile  land.  On  the  higher 
levels  of  the  receding  shore,  great  quantities  of  sal- 
lal  and  high  bush  huckleberries  grew  in  profusion,  inter- 
spersed with  what  for  lack  of  a  better  name  we  called 
Sweet  Bay,  the  perfumes  from  the  leaves  of  which  per- 
meated the  atmosphere  for  long  distances.  In  the  near 
by  front  a  long  flat  or  sandy  beach  extended  far  out 
from  the  high  tide  line  where  the  clams  spouted  in 
countless  numbers,  and  crows  played  their  antics  of 
breaking  the  shell  by  dropping  to  the  stony  beach  the 


♦McNeil    Island,    twelve   miles   westerly  as   the  crow    flies   from 
Tacoma. 


198   VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

helpless  bivalve  they  had  stealthily  clutched  and  taken 
to  flight  with  them. 

Off  to  the  eastward  and  three  miles  distant  the  town 
of  Sleilacoom,  or  rather  the  two  towns,  loomed  up  like 
quite  a  city,  on  the  ascending  slope  of  the  shore, 
to  make  us  feel  after  all  we  were  not  so  far  off  from 
civilization,  particularly  at  the  time  as  two  or  more 
deep  sea  vessels,  (ships  we  called  them)  were  in  port 
discharging  merchandise.  South-easterly,  the  grand 
mountain,  before  mentioned,  rose  so  near  three  miles 
high  above  the  tide  level  that  that  was  the  height  spoken 
by  all  and  as  being  fifty  miles  distant. 

Nisqually  House,  on  the  arm  of  the  bay  known  as  Nis- 
qually  Beach,  five  miles  distant,  could  be  seen  in  clear 
weather,  while  the  Hudson  Bay  Fort  of  that  name  was 
hidden  from  view  by  intervening  timber,  two  miles  east- 
erly from  the  beach. 

The  Medicine  Creek  council  grounds,  afterwards  made 
famous  by  the  treaty  council  held  a  few  months  later 
than  the  date  of  which  I  am  writing,  lay  across  the  Nis- 
qually tide  flats,  south  from  Nisqually  House,  near  three 
miles  distant,  but  the  view  of  this  was  cut  off  by  an 
intervening  island  (Anderson),  of  several  sections  iin 
extent,  and  of  varying  elevations  to  a  maximum  of  near 
four  hundred  feet. 

Fortunately  one  of  those  "spells"  of  weather  had  set- 
tled over  the  whole  country,  a  veritable  Indian  Sum- 
mer, though  now  bordering  on  the  usually  stormy 
month  of  November,  a  little  hazy,  just  enough  to  lend 
enchantment  to  the  landscape,  and  warm  enough  to 
add  pleasurable  experience  to  the  trip  the  little  party 
was  to  make.     Add  to   these  surroundings,   the  smooth 


TRIP    THROUGH    THE    NATCHESS    PASS  199 

glassy  waters  of  the  bay,  interspersed  here  and  there  by 
streaks  and  spots  of  troubled  water  to  vary  the  out- 
look, small  wonder  that  enthusiasm  ran  high  as  the 
half-rested  immigrants  neared  the  cabin  in  their  boat 
and  canoe,  chartered  for  the  trip,  piloted  and  paddled 
by  the  Indians  and  supplemented  by  the  awkward  stroke 
of  the  landlubber's  oar. 

"What  in  the  world  are  we  going  to  do  with  all  these 
people?"  1  said  to  the  little  wife,  half  apologetically, 
partly  quizzical  and  yet  with  a  tinge  of  earnestness  illy 
concealed. 

"Oh,  never  mind,  we  will  get  along  all  right  some 
way:  I'll  venture  father  has  brought  a  tent."  And  sure 
enough,  the  party  had  brought  the  three  tents  that  had 
served  them  so  well  for  so  long  a  time,  on  the  long  jour- 
ney, and  much  of  their  bedding  also. 

Father  had  been  over  to  the  cabin  before,  and  taken 
the  measurement. 

"Eighteen  feet  square,"  he  said,  "that's  a  pretty, 
good  size,  but  I  don't  see  why  you  boys  didn't  build  it 
higher;  it's  scant  seven  feet." 

Yes,  the  walls  were  but  seven  feet  high.  When  build- 
ing, the  logs  ran  out,  the  sky  was  threatening  and  we 
had  a  race  with  the  storm  to  get  a  roof  over  our  heads. 

"But  that's  a  good  fireplace,"  he  continued;  "there 
must  be  pretty  good  clay  here  to  hold  these  round  stones 
so  firmly.  And  that's  as  good  a  cat-and-clay  chimney 
as  I  had  in  Ohio,  only  mine  was  taller,  but  I  don't  see 
that  it  would  draw  any  better  than  this."  This  one  was 
just  nine  feet  high,  but  I  said  there  was  plenty  of  room 
to  build  it  higher. 

The  floor  was  rough  lumber,  or  had  been  when  laid, 


200        VENTURES   AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

but  the  stiff  scrub  brush  of  twigs  and  strong  arms  of 
house  cleaners  had  worn  off  the  rough  till  when  cleaned  it 
presented  a  quite  creditable  appearance.  And  the  walls! 
"Why,  you  have  a  good  library  on  these  walls;  all  the 
reading  matter  right  side  up  too;  the  Tribune  is  a  great 
paper,  indeed;  you  must  have  sent  for  it  right  away 
when  you  got  here,"  and  so  I  had,  and  continued  stead- 
ily for  eighteen  years,  and  thereby  hangs  a  tale,  which, 
though  a  digression  I  will  tell  before  writing  more  about 
our  visitors. 

Eighteen  years  after  my  arrival  from  across  the 
plains  in  October,  1852,  I  made  my  first  trip  to  the 
"States,"  to  our  old  home  and  to  New  York.  I  had  to  go 
through  the  mud  to  the  Columbia  River,  then  out  over  the 
dreaded  bar  to  the  Pacific  Ocean,  and  to  San  Francisco, 
then  on  a  seven  days'  journey  over  the  Central,  Union 
Pacific  and  connecting  lines  and  sit  bolt  upright  all  the 
way — no  sleeper  cars  then,  no  diners  either,  that  I  remem- 
ber seeing.     I  remember  I  started  from  Olympia  on  this 

trip  the  first  week  in  December.    Mr. Woodard  of 

Olympia  suggested  that  we  gather  all  the  varieties  of 
flowers  obtainable  in  the  open  air  and  that  I  press  them 
in  the  leaves  of  my  pamphlets  (presently  to  be  men- 
tioned), and  in  that  way  to  dry  and  press  them,  so  I 
might  exhibit  the  product  of  our  wonderful  mild  climate 
up  to  the  month  of  December.  We  succeeded  in  getting 
fifty-two  varieties  then  in  bloom  in  the  open  air,  and 
all  were  well  dried  and  preserved  when  I  arrived  at 
my  original  starting  place,  Eddyville,  Iowa.  Here,  lov- 
ing friends,  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Male,  (Aunt  Lib,  we  call 
her  now)  and  a  little  sprightly  youngster,  Miss  Molly 
Male,  the  well-known  teacher  in  Tacoma,  artistically  ar- 


TRIP  THROUGH   THE   NATCHESS   PASS  201 

ranged  my  treasures  on  tinted  paper  ready  for  exhibi- 
tion upon  my  arrival  in  New  York. 

I  had  written  an  eighty  page  pamphlet  (long  since 
out  of  print),  descriptive  of  Washington  Territory,  and 
my  friend  E.  T.  Gunn,  of  the  Olympia  Transcript,  printed 
them — five  thousand  copies — most  of  which  I  took  with 
me.  The  late  Beriah  Brown  gave  me  a  letter  of 
introduction  to  his  old-time  friend,  Horace  Greeley,  to 
whom  I  presented  it  and  was  kindly  received  and  com- 
mended to  Chairman  Ely  of  the  New  York  Farmer's 
Club,  and  by  him  given  an  opportunity  to  exhibit  my 
flowers,  speak  to  the  club  about  our  country  and  tell 
them  about  our  climate.  This  little  talk  was  widely 
circulated  through  the  proceedings  of  the  club  printed 
in  a  number  of  the  great  papers,  among  them  the 
Tribune. 

This  coming  to  the  notice  of  Jay  Cooke,  of  Northern 
Pacific  fame,  with  his  six  power  presses  just  started  at 
Philadelphia  to  advertise  the  Northern  Pacific  route, 
I  was  called  to  his  presence  and  closely  questioned, 
and  finally  complimented  by  the  remark  that  he  "did  not 
think  they  could  afford  to  have  any  opposition  in  the 
field  of  advertising,"  took  up  my  whole  edition  and  sent 
them  on  their  way  to  his  various  financial  agencies. 

In  the  chapter,  "The  Morning  School,"  the  sequel  to 
this  story  will  be  given,  and  so  now  we  must  return  to 
the  party  at  the  island  home. 

Our  visitors  were  all  soon  at  home  with  their  tents 
up,  their  blankets  out  airing,  the  camp  fires  lit  and  with 
an  abandon  truly  refreshing  turned  out  like  children  from 
school  to  have  a  good  time.  The  garden,  of  course,  was 
drawn  upon    and    "such    delicious    vegetables     I     never 


202        VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

saw  before,"  fell  from  a  dozen  lips,  during  the  stay. 
That  turnip  patch  was  planted  in  September.  "Why, 
that  beats  anything  I  ever  saw,"  father  said,  and  as 
insignificent  an  incident  as  it  may  seem,  had  a  decided 
effect  upon  the  minds  of  the  party.  "Why,  here  they  are 
growing  in  November.  At  home  (Iowa)  they  would 
by  this  time  be  frozen  as  solid  as  a  brick."  "Why,  these 
are  the  finest  flavored  potatoes  I  ever  ate,"  said  another. 
The  little  wife  had  a  row  of  sweet  peas  growing  near 
by  the  cabin  that  shed  fragrance  to  the  innermost  cor- 
ner and  to  the  tents,  and  supplied  bouquets  for  the  ta- 
bles, and  plenty  of  small  talk  comparing  them  with  those 
"in  the  States." 

And  so  the  little  garden,  the  sweet  peas,  and  other 
flowers  wild  and  cultivated,  brought  contentment  among 
those  who  at  first  had  had  a  feeling  of  despondency  and 
disappointment. 

Didn't  we  have  clam  bakes?  I  should  say!  And 
didn  't  the  women  folks  come  in  loaded  with  berries  ?  And, 
what  whoppers  of  huckleberry  puddings,  and  huckle- 
berry pies  and  all  sorts  of  good  things  that  ingenuity  of 
the  housewives  could  conjure  up. 

I  had  frequently  seen  deer  trotting  on  the  beach 
and  told  my  visitors  so,  but  somehow  they  could  not 
so  readily  find  them— had  been  too  noisy,  but  soon  a 
fat  buck  was  bagged,  and  the  cup  of  joy  was  full,  the 
feast  was  on. 

My  visitors  could  not  understand,  and  neither  could 
I,  how  it  came  that  a  nearby  island  (Anderson)  of  a  few 
sections  in  extent,  could  contain  a  lake  of  clear,  fresh 
water  several  hundred  feet  above  tide  level,  and  that 
this  lake  should  have  neither  inlet  nor  outlet.    It  was  on 


TRIP  THROUGH  THE  NATCHESS  PASS  U03 

the  margin  of  this  lake  that  the  first  deer  was  killed  and 
nearby  where  the  elder  brother  had  staked  his  claim. 

Mowich  Man,  an  Indian  whom  I  have  known  for  many 
years,  and,  by  the  way,  one  of  those  interfering  with 
the  survey  of  Muckleshute,  as  related  elsewhere,  was 
then  one  of  our  neighbors,  or  at  least,  frequently  passed 
our  cabin  with  his  canoe  and  people.  He  was  a  great 
hunter,  a  crack  shot,  and  an  all  round  Indian  of  good 
parts,  by  the  standard  applicable  to  his  race.  Many  is 
the  saddle  of  venison  that  this  man  has  brought  me  in 
the  lapse  of  years.  He  was  not  a  man  of  any  particu- 
lar force  of  character,  but  his  steadfast  friendship  has 
always  impressed  me  as  to  the  worth,  from  our  own 
standpoint,  of  this  race  to  which  he  belonged.  While 
our  friends  were  with  us  visiting,  my  Indian  friend  came 
along  and  as  usual  brought  a  nice  ham  of  venison  to 
the  camp,  and  at  my  suggestion,  went  with  the 
younger  men  of  the  visitors  to  where  their  first  exploit 
of  hunting  bore  fruit.  Our  young  men  came  back  with 
loud  praise  on  their  lips  for  the  Indian  hunter.  There 
was  nothing  specially  noteworthy  in  the  incident  only 
as  illustrating  what,  to  a  great  extent,  was  going  on  all 
over  the  settled  portion  of  the  Territory  leading  up  to  a 
better  understanding  between  the  two  races.  I  can 
safely  say  that  none  of  the  pioneers  was  without  what 
might  be  designated  as  a  favorite  Indian,  that  is,  an 
Indian  who  was  particular  to  gain  the  good  will  of  his 
chosen  friend,  and  in  most  cases  would  assume,  or  cus- 
tom would  bring  about,  the  adoption  of  the  white  man's 
name  and  the  Indian  would  ever  afterwards  be  known 
by  his  new  name.  Mowich  Man,  however,  like  Leschi, 
as  we  shall  see  later,  while  friendly  to  the  whites  was 


204        VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

possessed  of  a  more  independent  spirit.  Some  of  Mow- 
ich  Man's  people  were  fine  singers,  and  in  fact  his 
camp,  or  his  canoe  if  traveling,  was  always  the  center 
for  song  and  merriment,  but  it  is  a  curious  fact  one 
seldom  can  get  the  Indian  music  by  asking  for  it,  but 
rather  must  wait  for  its  spontaneous  outburst.  But 
Indian  songs  in  those  days  came  out  from  nearly  every 
nook  and  corner  and  seemed  to  pervade  the  whole  coun- 
try, so  much  that  we  often  and  often  could  hear  the  songs 
and  accompanying  stroke  of  the  paddle  long  before  our 
eyes  would  rest  on  the  floating  canoes. 

Will  the  reader  in  his  mind  dwell  on  the  hardships  of 
the  pioneers,  or  will  he  rather  look  upon  the  brighter 
side,  that  the  so-called  hardships  were  simply  the  drill 
that  developed  the  manhood  and  womanhood,  to  make 
better  men  and  better  women,  because  they  had  faced 
a  duty  they  could  not  shirk,  and  were  thereby  profited? 
Neither  did  the  pioneers  as  a  class  want  to  shirk  a 
duty  and  those  of  the  later  generation  who  had  poured 
out  their  sympathy  for  the  hardships  of  the  poor  pio- 
neers may  as  well  save  some  of  it  for  the  present  genera- 
tion, the  drones  of  the  community  that  see  no  pleasure 
in  the  stern  duties  of  life.  But  I  must  have  done  with 
these  reflections  to  resume  my  story,  now  nearly  ended, 
of  the  visitors  at  the  island  home  and  of  the  long  trip. 

Never  did  kings  or  queens  enjoy  their  palaces  more, 
nor  millionaires  their  princely  residences,  than  the  hum- 
ble immigrant  party  did  the  cabin  and  tents  in  their 
free  and  luxurious  life.  Queens  might  have  their  jewels, 
but  did  we  not  have  ours?  Did  we  not  have  our  two 
babies,  "the  nicest,  smartest,  cutest  in  all  the  world?" 
Did  we  not  have  a  profusion  of  fresh  air  to  inhale  at  every 


TRIP   THROUGH    THE    NATCHESS    PASS  205 

breath,  and  appetites  that  made  every  morsel  of  food  of 
exquisite  flavor? 

But  we  were  all  far  away  from  what  all  yet  thought 
of  as  home,  and  admonished  that  winter  was  coming  on 
and  that  after  a  short  season  of  recreation  and  rest  we 
must  separate,  each  to  his  task,  and  which  we  did,  and 
the  great  trip  was  ended.  The  actors  separated;  and 
now,  as  I  write,  almost  all  have  gone  on  that  greater  jour- 
ney, in  which  the  three  of  us  left  are  so  soon  to  join. 


206        VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 

FIRST    IMMIGRANTS    THROUGH    THE    NATCHESS    PASS,    1853. 

While  the  breaking  of  the  barrier  of  the  great  moun- 
tain range  for  the  immigrants  to  Puget  Sound  through 
the  Natchess  Pass  was  not  in  a  baptism  of  blood,  cer- 
tainly it  was  under  the  stress  of  great  suffering  and  anx- 
iety, as  shown  by  the  graphic  letter  following,  of  that 
indefatigable  worker  and  painstaking  searcher  after 
historic  facts,  Geo.  H.  Himes,  now  of  Portland,  Oregon, 
the  real  father  of  that  great  institution,  the  Oregon  His- 
torical Society. 

Having,  as  the  reader  will  see  by  the  reading  of  other 
chapters  of  this  work,  had  some  keen  personal  experi- 
ences through  this  gap  of  the  mountains,  it  is  but  natural 
the  incidents  will  come  nearer  home  to  me  than  to  the 
general  reader,  particularly  as  I  know  the  sincerity  of 
purpose  of  the  writer  and  the  utter  absence  of  any  spirit 
of  exaggeration.  Although  some  errors  have  crept  into 
Mr.  Himes'  letter,  where  he  has  drawn  from  other 
sources,  yet  this  in  nowise  detracts  from  the  value  of  his 
statement,  but  shows  how  very  difficult  it  is  to  ascertain 
exact  facts  so  long  after  the  events. 

The  letter  follows : 

"Portland,  Oregon,  Jan.  23,  1905. 
"My  Dear  Meeker: 

"Some  time  early  in  August,  1853,  Nelson  Sargent, 
from  Puget  Sound,  met  our  party  in  Grand  Ronde  valley 
saying  to  his  father,  Asher  Sargent,  mother,  two  sisters 


FIRST   IMMIGRANTS    THROUGH   NATCHESS   PASS,    1853      20  7 

and  two  brothers,  and  such  others  as  he  could  make  an 
impression  on,  'You  want  to  go  to  Puget  Sound.  That  is 
a  better  country  than  the  Willamette  valley.  All  the  good 
land  is  taken  up  there ;  but  in  the  Sound  region  you  can 
have  the  pick  of  the  best.  The  settlers  on  Puget  Sound 
have  cut  a  road  through  Natchess  Pass,  and  you  can  go 
direct  from  the  Columbia  through  the  Cascade  Mountains, 
and  thus  avoid  the  wearisome  trip  through  the  mountains 
over  the  Barlow  route  to  Portland,  and  then  down  the 
Columbia  to  Cowlitz  River,  and  then  over  a  miserable  road 
to  Puget  Sound.' 

"A  word  about  the  Sargents.  Asher  Sargent  and  his 
son  Nelson  left  Indiana  in  1849  for  California.  The  next 
year  they  drifted  northward  to  the  northern  part  of  Ore- 
gon— Puget  Sound.  Some  time  late  in  1850  Nelson  and  a 
number  of  others  were  shipwrecked  on  Queen  Charlotte 
Island,  and  remained  among  the  savages  for  several 
months.  The  father,  not  hearing  from  the  son,  supposed 
he  was  lost,  and  in  1851  returned  to  Indiana.  Being  res- 
cued in  time,  Nelson  wrote  home  that  he  was  safe ;  so  in 
the  spring  of  1853  the  Sargents,  Longmire,  Van  Ogle,  and 
possibly  some  others  from  Indiana,  started  for  Oregon. 
Somewhere  on  the  Platte  the  Biles  (two  families),  Bakers 
(two  families),  Downeys,  Kincaids,  my  father's  family 
(Tyrus  Himes),  John  Dodge  and  family — John  Dodge  did 
the  stone  work  on  the  original  Territorial  university  build- 
ing at  Seattle ;  Tyrus  Himes  was  the  first  boot  and  shoe- 
maker north  of  the  Columbia  River;  James  Biles  was  the 
first  tanner,  and  a  lady,  Mrs.  Frazier,  was  the  first  mil- 
liner and  dressmaker — all  met  and  journied  westward 
peaceably  together,  all  bound  for  Willamette  valley.  The 
effect  of  Nelson  Sargent's  presence  and  portrayal  of  the 


208   VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES  OP  EZRA  MEEKER 

magnificent  future  of  Puget  Sound,  caused  most  mem- 
bers of  this  company  of  140  or  more  persons — or  the  lead- 
ers thereof,  James  Biles  being  the  most  conspicuous — to 
follow  his  (Sargent's)  leadership.  At  length  the  Umatilla 
camp  ground  was  reached,  which  was  situated  about  three 
miles  below  the  present  city  of  Pendleton.  From  that 
point  the  company  headed  for  old  Fort  Walla  Walla 
(Wallula  of  today),  on  the  Columbia  River.  It  was  un- 
derstood that  there  would  be  no  difficulty  in  crossing,  but 
no  boat  was  found.  Hence  a  flat-boat  was  made  by  whip- 
sawing  lumber  out  of  driftwood.  Then  we  went  up  the 
Yakima  .River,  crossing  it  eight  times.  Then  to  the 
Natchess  River,  through  the  sage  brush,  frequently  as 
high  as  a  covered  wagon,  which  had  to  be  cut  down  before 
we  could  pass  through  it.  On  Sept.  15th  we  reached  the 
mountains  and  found  that  there  was  no  road,  nothing  but 
an  Indian  trail  to  follow.  Indeed,  there  was  no  road 
whatever  after  leaving  the  Columbia,  and  nothing  but  a 
trail  from  the  Umatilla  to  the  Columbia;  but  being  an 
open  country,  we  had  no  particular  difficulty  in  making 
headway.  But  I  remember  all  hands  felt  quite  serious  the 
night  we  camped  in  the  edge  of  the  timber — the  first  of 
any  consequence  that  we  had  seen — on  the  night  of  the 
15th  of  September.  Sargent  said  he  knew  the  settlers  had 
started  to  make  a  road,  and  could  not  understand  why  it 
was  not  completed ;  and  since  his  parents,  brothers  and 
sisters  were  in  the  company,  most  of  us  believed  that  he 
did  not  intend  to  deceive.  However,  there  was  no  course 
to  pursue  but  to  go  forward.  So  we  pushed  on  as  best 
we  could,  following  the  bed  of  the  stream  part  of  the 
time,  first  on  one  bank  and  then  on  the  other.  Every  little 
ways  we  would  reach  a  point  too  difficult  to  pass ;  then 


FIRST    IMMIGRANTS   THROUGH   NATCHESS   PASS,    1853      209 

we  would  go  to  the  high  ground  and  cut  our  way  through 
the  timber,  frequently  not  making  more  than  two  or  throe 
miles  a  day.  Altogether,  the  Natchess  was  crossed  sixty- 
eight  times.  On  this  journey  there  was  a  stretch  of  fifty 
miles  without  a  blade  of  grass — the  sole  subsistence  of 
cattle  and  horses  being  browse  from  young  maple  and 
alder  trees,  which  was  not  very  filling,  to  say  the  least. 
In  making  the  road  every  person  from  ten  years  old  up 
lent  a  hand,  and  there  is  where  your  humble  servant  had 
his  first  lessons  in  trail  making,  barefooted  to  boot,  but  not 
much,  if  any,  worse  off  than  many  others.  It  was  cer- 
tainly a  strenuous  time  for  the  women,  and  many  wern 
the  forebodings  indulged  in  as  to  the  probability  of  get- 
ting safely  through.  One  woman,  'Aunt  Pop,'  as  she  was 
called — one  of  the  Woolery  women — would  break  down 
and  shed  tears  now  and  then;  but  in  the  midst  of  her 
weeping  she  would  rally  and  by  some  quaint  remark  or 
funny  story  would  cause  everybody  in  her  vicinity  to  for- 
get their  troubles. 

"Tn  due  time  the  summit  of  the  Cascades  was  reached. 
Here  there  was  a  small  prairie — really,  it  was  an  old  burn 
that  had  not  grown  up  to  timber  of  any  size.  Now  it  was 
October,  about  the  8th  of  the  month,  and  bitter  cold  to  the 
youth  with  bare  feet  and  fringed  pants  extending  half 
way  down  from  knees  to  feet.  My  father  and  the  teams 
had  left  camp  and  gone  across  the  little  burn,  where 
most  of  the  company  was  assembled,  apparently  debating 
about  the  next  movement  to  make.  And  no  wonder;  for 
as  we  came  across  we  saw  the  cause  of  the  delay.  For  a 
sheer  thirty  feet  or  more  there  was  an  almost  perpendicu- 
lar bluff,  and  the  only  way  to  go  forward  was  by  that 
way,   as  was  demonstrated  by  an  examination   all  about 


210         VKNTURES   AND   ADVENTURES   OF   EZRA   MEEKER 

the  vicinity.  Heavy  timber  at  all  other  points  preclude*! 
the  possibility  of  getting  on  by  any  other  route.  So  the 
longest  rope  in  the  company  was  stretched  down  the  cliff, 
leaving-  just  enough  to  be  used  twice  around  a  small 
tree  which  stood  on  the  brink  of  the  precipice ;  but  it  was 
found  to  be  altogether  too  short.  Then  James  Biles  said  : 
'Kill  one  of  the  poorest  of  my  steers  and  make  his  hide 
into  a  rope  and  attach  it  to  the  one  you  have.'  Three 
animals  were  slaughtered  before  a  rope  could  be  secured 
long  enough  to  let  the  wagons  down  to  a  point  where  they 
would  stand  up.  There  one  yoke  of  oxen  was  hitched  to 
a  wagon,  and  by  locking  all  wheels  and  hitching  on  small 
logs  with  prejecting  limbs,  it  was  taken  down  to  a  stream 
then  known  as  'Greenwater. '  It  took  the  best  part  of  two 
days  to  make  this  descent.  There  were  thirty-six  wagons 
belonging  to  the  company,  but  two  of  them,  with  a  small 
quantity  of  provisions,  were  wrecked  on  this  hill.  The 
wagons  could  have  been  dispensed  with  without  much  loss. 
Not  so  the  provisions,  scanty  as  they  were,  as  the  com- 
pany came  to  be  in  sore  straits  for  food  before  the  White 
River  prairie  was  reached,  probably  South  Prairie*  of 
today,  where  food  supplies  were  first  obtained,  consisting 
of  potatoes  without  salt  for  the  first  meal.  Another  try- 
ing experience  was  the  ascent  of  Mud  Mountain  in  a 
drenching  rain,  with  the  strength  of  a  dozen  yoke  of  oxen 
attached  to  one  wagon,  with  scarcely  anything  in  it  save 
camp  equipment,  and  taxing  the  strength  of  the  teams  to 
the  utmost.    But  all  trials  came  to  an  end  when  the  com- 

*It  was  Connell's  Prairie.  The  route  had  been  viewed  at  the 
outset  through  South  Prairie,  but  afterwards  it  was  discovered  that 
a  road  had  previously  been  opened  to  White  River  through  Con- 
nell's Prairie,  and  the  latter  route  was  adopted  and  the  old  road 
cleared  by  Allen's  party. 


FIRST    IMMIGRANTS    THROUGH    NATCHESS   PASS,    185:J        --ill 

pany  reached  a  point  six  miles  from  Steilacoom,  about 
October  17th,  and  got  some  good,  fat  beef  and  plenty  of 
potatoes,  and  even  flour,  mainly  through  the  kindness  of 
Dr.  W.  F.  Tolmie.  The  change  from  salmon  skins  was 
gratifying. 

"And  now  a  word  about  the  wagon  road.  That  had 
been  cut  through  to  Greenwater.  There,  it  seems,  accord- 
ing to  a  Statement  made  to  me  a  number  of  years  ago  by 
James  Longmire,  and  confirmed  by  W.  0.  Bush,  one  of  the 
workers,  an  Indian  from  the  east  side  of  the  mountains, 
met  the  road  workers,  who  inquired  of  him  whether  there 
was  any  'Boston  men'  coming  through.  He  replied, 
"'Wake" — no.  Further  inquiry  satisfied  the  road  build- 
ers that  the  Indian  was  truthful,  hence  they  at  once  re- 
turned to  the  settlement,  only  to  be  greatly  astonished 
two  weeks  later  to  find  a  weary,  bedraggled,  forlorn,  hun- 
gry and  footsore  company  of  people  of  both  sexes,  from 
the  babe  in  arms — -my  sister  was  perhaps  the  youngest, 
eleven  months  old,  when  we  ceased  traveling — to  the  man 
of  55  years,  but  all  rejoicing  to  think  that  after  trials 
indescribable  they  had  at  last  reached  the  'Promised 
Land.' 

"Mrs.  James  Longmire  says  that  soon  after  de- 
scending the  big  hill  from  the  summit,  perhaps  early 
the  next  day,  as  she  was  a  few  hundred  yards  in  advance 
of  the  teams,  loading  her  little  girl,  three  years  and  two 
months  old,  and  carrying  her  baby  boy,  then  fifteen 
months  old,  that  she  remembers  meeting  a  man  coming 
towards  the  immigrants  leading  a  pack  animal,  who  said 
to  her:  "Good  God  almighty,  woman,  where  did  you 
come  from?    Is  there  any  more?    Why,  you  can  never  get 


212        VENTURES   AND   ADVENTURES   OF   EZRA   MEEKER 

through  this  way.  You  will  have  to  turn  back.  There  is 
not  a  blade  of  grass  for  fifty  miles." 

"She  replied:  'We  can't  go  back;  we've  got  to  go 
forward. ' 

"Soon  he  ascended  the  hill  by  a  long  detour  and 
gave  supplies  to  the  immigrants.  Mrs.  Longmire  says 
she  remembers  hearing  this  man  called  'Andy,'  and  is 
of  the  opinion  that  it  was  Andy  Burge. 

"When  the  immigrant  purty  got  to  a  point  supposed 
to  be  about  six  miles  from  Steilacoom,  or  possibly  near 
the  cabin  of  John  Lackey,  it  camped.  Vegetables  were 
given  them  by  Lackey,  and  also  by  a  man  named  Mahon. 
Dr.  Tolmie  gave  a  beef.  When  that  was  sent  to  the 
camp  the  Doctor  gave  it  in  charge  of  Mrs.  Mary  Ann 
Woolery — 'Aunt  Pop' — and  instructed  her  to  keep  it  in- 
tact until  the  two  oldest  men  in  the  company  came  in,  and 
that  they  were  to  divide  it  evenly.  Soon  a  man  came  with 
a  knife  and  said  he  was  going  to  have  some  meat.  Mrs. 
Woolery  said:  'No,  sir.'  He  replied:  'I  am  hungry, 
and  I  am  going  to  have  some  of  it. '  In  response  she  said : 
'So  are  the  rest  of  us  hungry;  but  that  man  said  I  was 
not  to  allow  anyone  to  touch  it  until  the  two  oldest  men 
came  into  camp,  and  they  would  divide  it  evenly.'  He 
said:  'I  can't  wait  for  that.'  She  said:  'You  will  have 
to.'  He  then  said:  'By  what  authority?'  'There  is  my 
authority,'  holding  up  her  fist — she  weighed  a  hundred 
pounds  then — and  she  said:  'You  touch  that  meat  and 
I'll  take  that  oxbow  to  you,'  grabbing  hold  of  one.  The 
man  then  subsided.  Soon  the  two  oldest  men  came  into 
camp.  The  meat  was  divided  according  to  Dr.  Tolmie 's 
directions,  and,  with  the  vegetables  that  had  been  given, 


FIRST    IMMIGRANTS   THROUGH   NATCHESS    PASS,    1853      213 

by  the  settlers,  all  hands  had  an  old-fashioned  boiled  sup- 
per— the  first  for  many  a  day." 

I  know  from  experience  just  what  such  a  supper 
meant  to  that  camp  and  how  it  tasted.  God  bless  that 
company.  I  came  to  know  nearly  all  of  them  personally, 
and  a  bigger  hearted  set  never  lived.  They  earned  the 
right  to  be  called  Pioneers  in  the  true  sense  of  the  word, 
but  a  large  percentage  have  gone  on  to  pleasant  paths, 
where  the  remainder  of  us  are  soon  to  be  joined  in  en- 
during fellowship. 

"In  the  list  following  are  the  names  of  the  Natchess 
Pass  immigrants  of  1853.  The  names  followed  by  other 
names  in  parentheses  are  those  of  young  ladies  who  sub- 
sequently married  men  bearing  the  names  within  the 
parentheses : 

"James  Biles,*  Mrs.  Nancy  M.  Biles,*  Geo.  W.  Biles, 
James  D.  Biles,*  Kate  Biles  (Sargent),  Susan  B.  Biles 
(Drew),  Clark  Biles,*  Margaret  Biles,*  Ephemia  Biles 
(Knapp),  Rev.  Chas.  Byles,*  Mrs.  Sarah  W.  Byles,*  David 
F.  Byles,*  Mary  Jane  Hill  (Byles),  Rebecca  E.  Byles 
(Goodell),*  Chas.  N.  Byles,*  Sarah  I.  Byles  (Ward),  John 
W.  Woodward,*  Bartholomew  C.  Baker,*  Mrs.  Fanny 
Baker,*  James  E.  Baker,*  John  W.  Baker,  Leander  H. 
Baker,  Elijah  Baker.*  Mrs.  Olive  Baker,*  Joseph  N.  Bak- 
er, Wm.  LeRoy  Baker,  Martha  Brooks  (Young),*  Newton 
West,  William  R.  Downey,*  Mrs.  W.  R.  Downey,*  Chris- 
topher C.  Downey,*  Geo.  W.  Downey,*  James  H.  Down- 
ey,* R.  W.  Downey,  John  M.  Downey,  Louise  Downey 
(Guess),*  Jane  Downey  (Clark)*,  Susan  Downey  (Lath- 
am),* Laura  B.  Downey  (Bartlett),  Mason  F.  Guess,* 
Wilson  Guess,*  Austin  E.  Young,  Henry  C.  Finch.*  Var- 
ine  Davis,*  James  Aiken.  John  Aiken,  Glenn  Aiken,  Wes- 


214         VENTURES   AND   ADVENTURES   OF   EZRA   MEEKER 

ley  Clinton,  J.  Wilson  Hampton,  John  Bowers,  William 
M.  Kincaid,*  Mrs.  W.  M.  Kincaid,*  Susannah  Kincaid 
(Thompson),  Joseph  C.  Kincaid,  Laura  Kincaid  (Meade),* 
James  Kincaid,  John  Kincaid,*  James  Gant,  Mrs.  James 
Gant,  Harris  Gant,  Mrs.  Harris  Gant.  All  of  the  forego- 
ing were  from  Kentucky.  Isaac  Woolery,*  Mrs.  Isaac 
Woolery,  Robert  Lamuel  Woolery,  James  Henderson 
Woolery,  Sarah  Jane  Woolery  (Ward)  (born  on  Little 
Sunday),  Abraham  Woolery,*  Mrs.  Abraham  Woolery 
(Aunt  Pop),  Jacob  Francis  Woolery,*  Daniel  Henry 
Woolery,  Agnes  Woolery  (Lamon),  Erastus  A.  Light,* 
Mrs.  E.  A.  Light,*  Henry  Light,  George  Melville,*  Mrs. 
George  Melville,*  Kate  Melville  (Thompson),*  Robert 
Melville,*  Isaac  H.  Wright,*  Mrs.  I.  H.  Wright,*  Ben- 
jamin Franklin  Wright,*  Mrs.  B.  F.  Wright,  James 
Wright,  Eliza  Wright  (Bell),  Rebecca  Wright  (Moore), 
William  Wright,  Byrd  Wright,*  Grandfather  —  Wright, 
Grandmother  —  Wright,  Jas.  Bell,  Annis  Wright 
(Downey).  The  foregoing  were  from  Missouri.  Tyrus 
Himes,*  Mrs.  Tyrus  Himes,*  George  H.  Himes,  Helen  L. 
Himes  (Ruddell),  Judson  W.  Himes,  Lestina  Z.  Himes 
(Eaton),*  Joel  Risdon,*  Henry  Risdon,  Chas.  R.  Fitch,* 
Frederick  Burnett,*  James  Longmire,*  Mrs.  James  Long- 
mire,  Elcaine  Longmire,  David  Longmire,  John  A.  Long- 
mire, Tillathi  Longmire  (Kandle),  Asher  Sargent,*  Mrs. 
A.  Sargent,*  E.  Nelson  Sargent,  Wilson  Sargent,*  F.  M. 
Sargent,*  Matilda  Sargent  (Saylor),  Rebecca  Sargent 
(Kellet),  Van  Ogle,  John  Lane,  Mrs.  John  Lane,  Joseph 
Day,  Elizabeth  Whitesel  (Lane),  Wm.  Whitesel,  Mrs. 
Win.  Whitesel,  William  Henry  Whitesel,  Nancy  Whitesel 
(Leach),  Clark  N.  Greenman,  Daniel  E.  Lane,*  Mrs.  D. 
E.  Lane,*   Edward   Lane,   William   Lane.   Timothy  Lane, 


FIRST    IMMIGRANTS    THROUGH   NATCHESS   PASS,    1853      2(5 

Albert  Lane,  Margaret  AVhitesel,  Alexander  Whitesel, 
Cal  Whitesel.  The  foregoing  were  from  Indiana.  Widow 
Gordon,   Mary  Frances    Gordon,    or    McCullough,    Mrs. 

Mary  Ann  McCullough  Porter, McCullough, 

Frazier,*  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Frazier,*  Peter  Judson,*  Mrs. 
Peter  Judson,*  Stephen  Judson,  John  Paul  Judson,  Ger- 
trude Shoren  Judson  (Delhi),  John  Neisan.*  The  fore- 
going were  from  Illinois.  In  addition  to  the  above  were 
William  H.  Mitchell  and  John  Stewart,*  from  states  un- 
known. 

This  makes  a  total  of  148  of  the  immigrants  who 
completed  the  road — that  is,  all  but  Melville.  He  refused 
to  assist  in  making  the  road  and  kept  about  a  half  day 
behind,  notwithstanding  James  Biles  asked  him  to  lend 
a  hand. 

Accompanying  the  party  of  road  makers  was  Quie- 
muth,  a  half-brother  of  Lesehi,  who  acted  as  guide  and 
led  the  horse  upon  which  were  packed  the  blankets  and 
provisions  of  Parker  and  Allen. 


►Dead. 


216   VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

BUILDING    OF    THE    NATCHESS    PASS    ROAD. 

We  have  seen  with  what  travail  the  first  immigrants 
passed  through  the  Natchess  Pass.  We  will  now  tell 
ahout  that  other  struggle  to  construct  any  kind  of  a  road 
at  all,  and  so  we  must  need  go  back  a  little  in  our  story. 

While  I  had  been  struggling  to  get  the  little  wife  and 
baby  over  from  the  Columbia  River  to  the  Sound,  and 
a  roof  over  their  heads,  the  sturdy  pioneers  of  this  latter 
region  set  resolutely  to  work  building  a  wagon  road 
through  this  pass,  to  enable  the  immigation  of  1853,  and 
later  years,  to  come  direct  to  Puget  Sound. 

For  unknown  ages  the  Indians  had  traveled  a  well- 
worn  but  crooked  and  difficult  trail  through  this  pass, 
followed  by  the  Hudson  Bay  people  later  in  their  inter- 
course with  the  over-mountain  tribes,  but  it  remained  for 
the  resolute  pioneers  of  1853  to  open  a  wagon  road  over 
the  formidable  Cascade  Range  of  mountains  to  connect 
the  two  sections  of  the  Territory,  otherwise  so  completely 
separated  from  each  other. 

Congress  had  appropriated  twenty  thousand  dollars 
for  the  construction  of  a  military  road  from  Port  Steila- 
coom  to  Wallula  on  the  Columbia  River,  but  it  was 
patent  to  all  the  appropriation  could  not  be  made  avail- 
able in  time  for  the  incoming  immigration  known  to  be 
on  the  way. 

This  knowledge  impelled  the  settlers  to  make  extraor- 


BUILDING   OF    THE    NATCHESS    PASS    ROAD  217 

dinary  efforts  to  open  the  road,  as  related  in  this  and 
succeeding  chapters. 

Meetings  had  been  held  at  various  points  to  forward 
the  scheme  and  popular  subscription  lists  circulated  for 
prosecuting  this  laudable  enterprise.  It  was  a  great  un- 
dertaking for  the  scattered  pioneers,  particularly  where 
so  many  were  newcomers  with  scant  provision  yet  made 
for  food  or  shelter  for  the  coming  winter. 

But  everyone  felt  this  all  important  enterprise  must 
be  attended  to,  to  the  end  that  they  might  divert  a  part 
of  the  expected  immigration  which  would  otherwise  go 
down  the  Columbia  or  through  passes  south  of  that  river, 
and  thence  into  Oregon,  and  be  lost  to  the  new  but  yet 
unorganized  Territory  of  Washington. 

And  yet  in  the  face  of  all  the  sacrifices  endured  and 
the  universal  public  spirit  manifested,  there  are  men 
who  would  belittle  the  efforts  of  the  citizens  of  that  day 
and  malign  their  memories  by  accusing  them  of  stirring 
up  discontent  among  the  Indians.  "A  lot  of  white  men 
who  were  living  with  Indian  women,  and  who  were  inter- 
ested in  seeing  that  the  country  remained  common  pas- 
ture as  long  as  possible."  A  more  outrageous  libel  was 
never  penned  against  the  living  or  dead.  In  this  case  but 
few  of  the  actors  are  left,  but  there  are  records,  now 
fifty  years  old  that  it  is  a  pleasure  to  perpetuate  for  the 
purpose  of  setting  this  matter  aright,  and  also  of  correct- 
ing some  errors  that  have  crept  into  the  treacherous 
memories  of  the  living,  and  likewise  to  pay  a  tribute  to 
the  dead.  Later  in  life  I  knew  nearly  all  these  sixty-nine 
men,  subscribers  to  this  fund,  and  so  far  as  I  know  now 
all  are  dead  but  eight,  and  I  know  the  underlying  motive 
that  prompted  this  strenuous  action;  they  wanted  to  see 


218        VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

the  country  settled  np  with  the  sturdy  stock  of  the  over- 
land immigrants. 

The  same  remark  applies  to  the  interpid  road  work- 
ers, some  of  whom  it  will  be  seen  camped  on  the  trail  for 
the  whole  summer,  and  labored  without  money  and  with- 
out price  to  the  end. 

It  is  difficult  to  abridge  the  long  quotation  following, 
illustrating  so  vividly  as  it  does  the  rough  and  ready 
pioneer  life  as  Winthrop  saw  and  so  sparklingly  described. 
Such  tributes  ought  to  be  perpetuated,  and  I  willingly 
give  up  space  for  it  from  his  work,  "The  Canoe  and 
the  Saddle,"  which  will  well  repay  the  reader  for  careful 
perusal.  Winthrop  gives  this  account  as  he  saw  the 
road-workers  the  last  week  of  August,  1853,  in  that  fa- 
mous trip  from  Nisqually  to  The  Dalles.  Belated  and  a 
little  after  nightfall,  he  suddenly  emerged  from  the  sur- 
rounding darkness  where,  quoting  his  words : 

"A  score  of  men  were  grouped  about  a  fire.  Several 
had  sprung  up,  alert  at  our  approach.  Others  reposed 
untroubled.  Others  tended  viands  odoriferous  and  friz- 
zing. Others  stirred  the  flame.  Around,  the  forest  rose, 
black  as  Erebus,  and  the  men  moved  in  the  glare  against 
the  gloom  like  pitmen  in  the  blackest  coal  mines. 

"I  must  not  dally  on  the  brink,  half  hid  in  the  ob- 
scure thicket,  lest  the  alert  ones  below  should  suspect  an 
ambush  and  point  toward  me  open-mouthed  rifles  from 
their  stack  near  at  hand.  I  was  enough  out  of  the  woods 
to  halloo,  as  I  did  heartily.  Klale  sprang  forward  at  shout 
and  spur.  Antipodes  obeyed  a  comprehensive  hint  from 
the  whip  of  Loolowcan.  We  dashed  down  into  the  crim- 
son pathway,  and  across  among  the  astonished  road 
makers — astonished   at  the  sudden   alighting  down  from 


BUILDING    OF    THE    NATCHESS    PASS    ROAD  219 

Nowhere  of  a  pair  of  cavaliers,  Pasiaook  and  Siwash. 
What  meant  this  incursion  of  a  strange  couple?  I  be- 
came at  once  the  center  of  a  red-flannel-shirted  circle.  The 
recumbents  stood  on  end.  The  cooks  let  their  frying  pans 
bubble  over,  while,  in  response  to  looks  of  expectation,  I 
hung  out.  my  handbill  and  told  the  society  my  brief  and 
simple  tale.  I  was  not  running  away  from  any  fact  in 
my  history.  A  harmless  person,  asking  no  favors,  with 
plenty  of  pork  and  spongy  biscuit  in  his  bags — only  going 
home  across  the  continent,  if  may  be,  and  glad,  gentle- 
men pioneers,  of  this  unexpected  pleasure. 

"My  quality  thus  announced,  the  boss  of  the  road 
makers,  without  any  dissenting  voice,  offered  me  the 
freedom  of  their  fireside.  He  called  for  the  fattest  pork, 
that  I  might  be  entertained  right  republicanly.  Every 
cook  proclaimed  supper  ready.  I  followed  my  represen- 
tative host  to  the  windward  side  of  the  greenwood  pyre, 
lest  smoke  wafting  toward  my  eyes  should  compel  me  to 
disfigure  the  banquet  with  lachrymose  countenance. 

"Fronting  the  coals,  and  basking  in  their  embrown- 
ing beams,  were  certain  diminutive  targets,  well  known 
to  me  as  defensive  armor  against  darts  of  cruel  hunger — 
cakes  of  unleaven  bread,  light  flapjacks  in  the  vernacular, 
confected  of  flour  and  the  saline  juices  of  fire-ripened 
pork,  and  kneaded  well  with  drops  of  the  living  stream. 
Baker  then  in  frying  pan,  they  stood  now,  each  nodding 
forward  and  resting  its  edge  upon  a  planted  twig,  toast- 
crustily  till  crunching  time  should  come.  And  now  to 
every  man  his  target !  Let  supper  assail  us  !  No  dastards 
with  trencher  are  we. 

"In  such  a  platonic  republic  as  this  a  man  found  his 


220        VENTURES   AND   ADVENTURES   OF   EZRA   MEEKER 

place  according  to  his  powers.  The  cooks  were  no  base 
scullions ;  they  were  brothers,  whom  conscious  ability, 
sustained  by  universal  suffrage,  had  endowed  with  the 
frying  pan.  Each  man's  target  of  flapjacks  served  him 
for  platter  and  edible  table.  Coffee,  also,  for  beverage, 
the  fraternal  cooks  set  before  us  in  infrangible  tin  pots — 
coffee  ripened  in  its  red  husk  by  Brazilian  suns  thousands 
of  leagues  away,  that  we,  in  cool  Northern  forests,  might 
feel  the  restorative  power  of  its  concentrated  sunshine, 
feeding  vitality  with  fresh  fuel. 

"But  for  my  gramniverous  steeds,  gallopers  all  day 
long,  unflinching  steeplechase,  what  had  nature  done  here 
in  the  way  of  provender?  Alas!  little  or  naught.  This 
camp  of  plenty  for  me  was  a  starvation  camp  for  them. 

"My  hosts  were  a  stalwart  gang.  I  had  truly  di- 
vined them  from  their  cleavings  on  the  hooihut  (road). 
It  was  but  play  for  any  one  of  these  to  whittle  down  a 
cedar  five  feet  in  diameter.  In  the  morning  this  compact 
knot  of  comrades  would  explode  into  a  mitraille  of  men 
wielding  keen  axes,  and  down  would  go  the  dumb,  stolid 
files  of  the  forest.  Their  talk  was  as  muscular  as  their 
arms.  When  these  laughed,  as  only  men  fresh  and  hearty 
and  in  the  open  air  can  laugh,  the  world  became  mainly 
grotesque ;  it  seemed  at  once  a  comic  thing  to  live — a 
subject  for  chuckling,  that  we  were  bipeds  with  noses — 
a  thing  to  roar  at;  that  we  had  all  met  there  from  the 
wide  world  to  hobnob  by  a  frolicsome  fire  with  tin  pots  of 
coffee,  and  partake  of  crisped  bacon  and  toasted  dough- 
boys in  ridiculous  abundance.  Easy  laughter  infected  the 
atmosphere.  Echoes  ceased  to  be  pensive  and  became 
jocose.    A  rattling  humor  pervaded  the  feast,  and  Green 


BUILDING    OF    THE    NATCHESS    PASS    ROAD  -'21 

River*  rippled  with  noise  of  fantastic  jollity.  Civilization 
and  its  dilettante  diners-out  sneer  when  Clodpole  at 
Dive's  table  doubles  his  soup,  knifes  his  fish,  lilts  his 
plate  into  his  lap,  puts  muscle  into  the  crushing'  of  his 
meringue,  and  tosses  off  the  warm  beaker  in  his  finger 
bowl.  Camps  by  Tacoma  sneer  not  at  all,  but  candidly 
roar  at  parallel  accidents.  Gawkey  makes  a  cushion  of 
his  flapjack.  Butterfingers  drops  his  red-hot  rasher  into 
his  bosom,  or  lets  slip  his  mug  of  coffee  into  his  boot 
drying  by  the  fire — a  boot  henceforth  saccharine.  A  mule, 
slipping  his  halter,  steps  forward  unnoticed,  puts  his  nose 
in  the  circle  and  brays  resonant.  These  are  the  jocular 
boons  of  life,  and  at  these  the  woodsmen  guffaw  with  lusty 
good-nature.  Coarse  and  rude  the  jokes  may  be,  but  not 
nasty,  like  the  innuendoes  of  pseudo-refined  cockneys.  If 
the  woodsmen  are  guilty  of  uncleanly  wit,  it  differs  from 
the  uncleanly  wit  of  cities  as  the  mud  of  a  road  differs 
from  the  sticky  slime  of  slums. 

"It  is  a  stout  sensation  to  meet  masculine,  muscular 
men  at  the  brave  point  of  a  penetrating  Boston  hooihut — 
men  who  are  mates — men  to  whom  technical  culture 
means  naught — men  to  whom  myself  am  naught,  unless  I 
can  saddle,  lasso,  cook,  sing  and  chop ;  unless  I  am  a  man 
of  nerve  and  pluck,  and  a  brother  in  generosity  and 
heartiness.  It  is  restoration  to  play  at  cudgels  of  jocose- 
ness  with  a  circle  of  friendly  roughs,  not  one  of  whom 
ever  heard  the  word  bore — with  pioneers  who  must  think 
and  act  and  wrench  their  living  from  the  closed  hand 
of  nature. 

*This  should  read  Green  Water.  This  camp  was  far  up  in  the 
mountains  and  the  stream  referred  to  came  from  the  main  range  and 
not  from  the  glaciers  of  the  great  mountain,  and  hence  was  a  spar- 
kling, dancing  rivulet  of  clearest  water.  Green  River  is  forty  miles 
or  more  farther  down  the  mountain. 


222        VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

a  #  *  *  While  fantastic  flashes  were  leaping  up 
and  illuminating  the  black  circuit  of  forest,  every  man 
made  his  bed,  laid  his  blankets  in  starry  bivouac  and  slept 
like  a  mummy.  The  camp  became  vocal  with  snores; 
nasal  with  snores  of  various  calibre  was  the  forest.  Some 
in  triumphant  tones  announced  that  dreams  of  conflict 
and  victory  were  theirs ;  some  sighed  in  dulcet  strains  that 
told  of  lovers'  dreams;  some  strew  shrill  whistles  through 
cavernous  straits ;  some  wheezed  grotesquely  and  gasped 
piteously ;  and  from  some  who  lay  supine,  snoring  up  at 
the  fretted  roof  of  forest,  sound  gushed  in  spasms,  leaked 
in  snorts,  bubbled  in  puffs,  as  steam  gushes,  leaks  and 
bubbles  from  yawning  valves  in  degraded  steamboats. 
They  died  away  into  the  music  of  my  dreams ;  a  few  mo- 
ments seemed  to  pass,  and  it  was  day. 

"  *  *  *  If  horses  were  breakfastless,  not  so  were 
their  masters.  The  road  makers  had  insisted  that  I  should 
be  their  guest,  partaking  not  only  of  the  fire,  air,  earth 
and  water  of  their  bivouac,  but  an  honorable  share  at  their 
feast.  Hardly  had  the  snoring  ceased  when  the  frying  of 
the  fryers  began.  In  the  pearly-gray  mist  of  dawn,  purple 
shirts  were  seen  busy  about  the  kindling  pile;  in  the 
golden  haze  of  sunrise  cooks  brandished  pans  over  fierce 
coals  raked  from  the  red-hot  jaws  of  flame  that  champed 
their  breakfast  of  fir  logs.  Rashers,  doughboys,  not  with- 
out molasses,  and  coffee — a  bill  of  fare  identical  with  last 
night's — were  our  morning  meal.     *     *     * 

"And  so  adieu,  gentlemen  pioneers,  and  thanks  for 
your  frank,  manly  hospitality!  Adieu,  'Boston  tilicum,' 
far  better  types  of  robust  Americanism  than  some  of  those 
selected  as  its  representatives  by  Boston  of  the  Orient, 


BUILDING    OF    THE    NATCHESS    PASS    ROAD  223 

where  is  too  much  worship  of  what,  is,  and  not  loo  much 
uplifting  of  hopeful  looks  of  what  ought  to  be. 

"As  I  started,  the  woodsmen  gave  me  a  salute. 
Down,  to  echo  my  shout  of  farewell,  went  a  fir  of  fifty 
years'  standing.  It  cracked  sharp,  like  the  report  of  a 
howitzer,  and  crashed  downward,  filling  the  woods  with 
shattered  branches.  Under  cover  of  this  first  shot,  I 
dashed  at  the  woods.  I  could  ride  more  boldly  forward 
into  savageness,  knowing  that  the  front  ranks  of  my  na- 
tion were  following  close  behind. 

The  men  who  were  in  that  camp  of  road  workers 
were  E.  J.  Allen,  A.  J.  Burge,  Thomas  Dixon,  Ephraim 
Allen,  -las.  Henry  Allen,  George  Githers,  John  Walker, 
John  II.  Mills,  R.  S.  More,  R.  Foreman,  Ed.  Crofts,  Jas. 
Boise,  Robert  Patterson,  Edward  Miller,  Edward  Wallace, 
Lewis  Wallace.  Jas.  R.  Smith,  John  Burrows,  and  Jas. 
Mix. 

The  names  of  the  workers  on  the  east  slope  of  the 
mountains  are  as  follows :  Whitfield  Kirtley,  Edwin 
Marsh,  Nelson  Sargent,  Paul  Ruddell,  Edward  Miller,  J. 
W.  Fonts,  John  L.  Perkins,  Isaac  M.  Brown,  James  Al- 
verson,  Nathaniel  G.  Stewart,  William  Carpenter,  and 
Mr.  Clyne. 

The  Pioneer  and  Democrat  published  at  Olympia,  in 
its  issue  of  September  30th,  1854,  contains  the  follow- 
ing self-explanatory  letter  and  account  that  will  revive 
the  memory  of  many  almost  forgotten  names  and  set  at 
rest  this  calmuny  cast  upon  the  fame  of  deserving  men. 

"Friend  Wiley:  Enclosed  I  send  you  for  publication 
the  statement  of  the  cash  account  of  the  Puget  Sound  emi- 
grant road,  which  has  been  delayed  until  this  time,  partly 
on  account  of  a  portion  of  the  business  being  unsettled, 


224        VENTURES   AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

and  partly  because  you  could  not,  during  the  session  of 
the  last  legislature,  find  room  in  your  columns  for  its 
insertion.  As  you  have  now  kindly  offered,  and  as  it  is 
due  the  citizens  of  the  Territory  that  they  should  receive 
a  statement  of  the  disposition  of  the  money  entrusted  to 
me,  I.  send  it  to  you,  and  in  so  doing  close  up  my  con- 
nection with  the  Cascade  road,  and  would  respectfully 
express  my  gratitude  to  the  citizens  for  the  confidence 
they  have  reposed  in  me,  and  congratulate  them  upon  the 
successful  completion  of  the  road. 

JAMES  K.  HURD. 


RECEIPTS. 

By  subscription  of  John  M.  Swan $  10.00 

"    S.  W.  Percival  .  5.00 

"             "           "    Jos.  Cushman 5.00 

"    Milas  Galliher  ....    5.00 

"    C.  Eaton  5.00 

"    Chips  Ethridge  ...  5.00 

"           "    Wm.  Berry 5.00 

"    J.  C.  Patton  5.00 

"    T.  F.  McElroy 5.00 

"    James  Taylor  5.00 

"    George  Gallagher 5.00 

"J.  Blanchard  5.00 

"    Weed  &  Hurd  100.00 

"    Kendall  Co 50.00 

"    G.  A.  Barnes 50.00 

"    Parker,  Colter  &  Co 30.00 

"    Brand  &  Bettman 25.00 

"    J.  &  C.  E.  Williams 25.00 


BUILDING    OF    THE    NATCHESS    PASS    ROAD  225 

"  Waterman  &  Goldman  25.00 

•'  Lightner,  Rosenthal  &  Co.-  10.00 

"  A.  J.  Moses 10.00 

"  Wm.  W.  Plumb  10.00 

"  Isaac  Wood  &  Son  ....  15.00 

"  D.  J.  Chambers 20.00 

"  John  Chambers  - 5.00 

"  McLain  Chambers  10.00 

•  J.  H.  Conner ~~  5.00 

"  H.  G.  Parsons  5.00 

"  Thomas  J.  Chambers  20.00 

"  Puget  Sd.  Agricultural  Co..  100.00 

••  Wells,  McAllister  &  Co 30.00 

"  Henry  Murray 25.00 

"  L.  A.  Smith 25.00 

"  Chas.  Wren  25.00 

"  James  E.  Williamson  10.00 

"  H.  C.  Mosely  - 5.00 

"J.  M.  Bachelder  5.00 

"  Lemuel  Bills  .... - 25.00 

"  W.  Boatman  - - 15.00 

"  W.  M.  Sherwood  -. 5.00 

"  James  Barron 5.00 

"  S.  W.  Woodruff  -  5.00 

"  R,  S.  More  ... -  5.00 

"  John  D.  Press  5.00 

"  Samuel  McCaw  - 5.00 

"  Philip  Keach  - 10-00 

"  Abner  Martin 20.00 

"  George  Brail - 10.00 

"  T.  W.  Glasgow  10.00 

"  McGomery 10.00 


226   VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES  OP  EZRA  MEEKER 


Thos.  TaUentire  ... 
Garwin  Hamilton  . 

John  McLeod  

Richard  Philander 

"W.  Gregg 

David   Pattee    

Thomas  Chambers 
W.  A.  Slaughter  . 

W.  Hardin  

L.  Balch  

W.  W.  Miller    ... 

J.  B.  Webber  

J.  W.  Goodell  .... 

Kline  

A.  Benton  Moses  . 
Parsons  


H.  Hill 

By  amount  received  for  horse  

By  amount  received  for  horse  (Woods) 
By  subscription  of  Nelson  Barnes  


10.00 

5.00 

25.00 

5.00 

5.00 

20.00 

50.00 

10.00 

15.00 

50.00 

10.00 

25.00 

10.00 

10.00 

5.00 

5.00 

5.00 

35.00 

35.00 

30.00 


Amount  note  from  Lemuel  Bills 


$1,220.00 
25.00 


Whole  amount  received  as  per  subscription  paper..$l,195.00 

This  list  of  subscribers  to  the  road  fund  will  revive 
memories  of  almost  forgotten  names  of  old-time  friends 
and  neighbors,  and  also  will  serve  to  show  the  interest 
taken  by  all  classes.  It  must  not  for  a  moment  be  taken 
this  comprises  the  whole  list  of  contributors  to  this  enter- 
prise, for  it  is  not  half  of  it,  as  the  labor  subscription  far 


BUILDING    OF    THE    NATCHESS    PASS    ROAD  227 

exceeded  the  cash  receipts  represented  by  this  published 
statement.  Unfortunately,  we  are  unable  to  obtain  a 
complete  list  of  those  who  gave  their  time  far  beyond 
what  they  originally  had  agreed  upon,  but  were  not  paid 
for  their  labor. 

The  Columbian,  published  under  date  of  July  30th, 
1853,  says : 

"Captain  Lafayette  Balch,  the  enterprising  proprietor 
of  Steilacoom,  has  contributed  one  hundred  dollars  in 
money  towards  the  road  to  Walla  Walla.  To  each  and 
every  man  who  started  from  that  neighborhood  to  work 
on  the  road,  Captain  Balch  gives  a  lot  in  the  town  of 
Steilacoom.  He  is  security  to  the  United  States  Govern- 
ment for  a  number  of  mules,  pack  saddles  and  other 
articles  needed  by  the  men.  He  furnished  the  outfit  for 
the  company  who  started  from  that  place  with  Mr.  E.  J. 
Allen,  at  just  what  the  articles  cost  in  San  Francisco." 

Mr.  Hurd's  expenditure  is  set  out  in  his  published 
report,  but  none  of  it  is  for  labor,  except  for  Indian  hire, 
a  small  sum.  We  know  there  were  thirty  men  at  work 
at  one  time,  and  that  at  least  twelve  of  them  spent  most 
of  the  summer  on  the  work  and  that  at  least  fifty  laborers 
in  all  donated  their  time,  and  that  the  value  of  the  labor 
was  far  in  excess  of  the  cash  outlay. 

By  scanning  the  list  the  "Old  Timer"  will  readily  see 
the  cash  subscribers  and  road  workers  were  by  no  means 
confined  to  Olympia,  and  that  many  of  the  old  settlers  of 
Pierce  County  are  represented,  and  even  the  foreign  cor- 
poration, the  Puget  Sound  Agricultural  Company,  came 
down  with  a  heavy  subscription.  Everybody  was  in  favor 
of  the  road.  Such  can  also  pick  out  the  names  of  those 
"white  men  who  were  living  with  Indian  women"  among 


228        VENTURES   AND   ADVENTURES   OF   EZRA   MEEKER 

the  liberal  subscribers  to  the  fund  for  opening  the  road. 

Nor  were  the  Indians  lacking  in  interest  in  the  enter- 
prise. A.  J.  Baldwin,  then  and  for  many  years  after- 
wards a  citizen  of  Olympia,  and  whom  it  may  be  said 
was  known  as  a  truthful  man,  in  a  recent  interview,  said : 

"We  all  put  our  shoulders  to  the  wheel  to  make  the 
thing  go.  I  helped  to  pack  out  grub  to  the  working  party 
myself.  It  seemed  to  be  difficult  to  get  the  stuff  out;  en- 
tirely more  so  than  to  get  it  contributed.  I  was  short  of 
pack  animals  one  trip,  and  got  twelve  horses  from  Leschi, 
and  I  believe  Leschi  went  himself  also."* 

"  'Do  you  remember  how  much  you  paid  Leschi  for 
his  horses?' 

"  'Why,  nothing.  He  said  if  the  whites  were  work- 
ing without  pay  and  were  giving  provisions,  it  was  as 
little  as  he  could  do  to  let  his  horses  go  and  help.  He 
said  if  I  was  giving  my  time  and  use  of  horses  then  he 
would  do  the  same,  and  if  I  received  pay  then  he  wanted 
the  same  pay  I  got.    Neither  of  us  received  anything.'  " 

These  were  the  Indians  who  were  actually  driven 
from  their  farms  into  the  war  camp,  leaving  the  plow  and 
unfinished  furrow  in  the  field  and  stock  running  at  large, 
to  be  confiscated  by  the  volunteers,  at  the  outbreak  of 
the  Indian  war  of  1855. 

And  such  were  the  road  workers  in  the  Natchess 
Pass  in  the  fall  of  1853,  and  such  were  the  pioneers  of 
that  day.  Fortunate  it  is  we  have  the  testimony  of  such 
a  gifted  and  unbiased  writer  as  Winthrop  to  delineate  the 
character  of  the  sturdy  men  who  gave  their  strenuous 
efforts  and  substance  that  their  chosen  commonwealth 
might  prosper. 

♦Baldwin    is    mistaken.      Queimuth,    Leschi's    brother,    went    as 
guide  and  packer,  but  Leschi  doubtless  supplied  the  horses. 


BUILDING    OF    THE    NATCHESS    PASS    ROAD  229 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

BUILDING    THE    NATCHESS    PASS    ROAD — Concluded. 

Allen's  party  left  Steilacoom  for  this  work  July  30th, 
(1853),  and  was  still  at  work  on  the  26th  of  September, 
when  he  wrote:  "We  will  be  through  this  week,  having 
completed  the  western  portion  of  the  road. ' '  With  twenty 
men  in  sixty  days  and  over  sixty  miles  to  cut,  he  could 
not  be  expected  to  build  much  of  a  road. 

The  other  party,  under  Kirtley,  left  Olympia,  thir- 
teen strong,  July  19th,  and  was  back  again  August  20th, 
and  so  could  not  have  done  very  effective  work  on  the 
east  slope,  as  it  would  take  at  least  a  third  of  the  time 
to  make  the  trip  out  and  back  from  their  field  of  labor. 

With  the  view  of  trying  to  settle  the  disputed  points, 
I  wrote  to  my  old  time  friend,  A.  J.  Burge,  one  of  the 
Allen  party,  to  get  information  from  first  hands,  and 
have  this  characteristic  reply : 

"Wenass,  December  8th,  1904. 

"Friend  Meeker. — Sir:  Your  letter  dated  Nov.  26, 
1904,  at  hand.  Sir,  I  am  quite  sick.  I  will  try  to  sit  up 
long  enough  to  scratch  an  answer  to  your  questions.  Kirt- 
ley 's  men  fell  out  among  themselves.  I  well  remember 
Jack  Perkins  had  a  black  eye.  Kirtley,  as  I  understood, 
was  to  go  (to)  Wenass  creek,  thence  cut  a  wagon  road 
from  Wenass  to  the  Natchess  River,  thence  up  the 
Natchess  River  until  they  met  Allen's  party.  It  is  my 
opinion  they  did  commence  at  Wenass.  There  were  three 
notches  cut  in  many  of  the  large  trees  (logs).    I  can  find 


230   VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES  OP  EZRA  MEEKER 

some  of  these  trees  yet  where  these  notches  show.  Allen 
did  not  know  Kirtley  and  his  party  had  abandoned  the 
enterprise  until  Ehformer  told  him.  He  expressed  much 
surprise  and  regret.  I  packed  the  provisions  for  Allen's 
party.  The  last  trip  I  made  I  found  Allen  and  his  party 
six  or  eight  miles  down  the  Natchess  River.  I  was  sent 
back  to  the  summit  of  the  mountain  to  search  for  a  pack 
mule  and  a  pack  horse.  These  two  animals  were  used 
by  the  working  party  to  move  their  camp  outfit,  and  their 
provisions.  When  they  returned  they  told  me  that  they 
cut  the  road  down  to  where  Kirtley 's  party  left  off.  Of 
my  own  knowledge  I  can  safely  say  Allen's  party  cut 
the  road  from  John  Montgomery's*  to  some  six  or  maybe 
eight  miles  down  the  Natchess  River,  and  it  was  four  days 
after  that  before  they  came  to  the  summit  on  their  return. 

"It  is  possible  Kirtley 's  party  slighted  their  work  to 
the  extent  that  made  it  necessary  for  the  immigrants  to 
take  their  axes  in  hand.  I  consider  Kirtley  a  dead  failure 
at  anything.  Kirtley 's  party  came  home  more  than  a 
month  before  we  came  in.  If  Van  Ogle  is  not  insane  he 
ought  to  remember. 

"Allen's  party  cut  the  road  out  from  six  to  eight 
miles  down  the  Natchess  River  to  John  Montgomery's. 
The  valley  on  the  Natchess  River  is  too  narrow  for  any 
mistake  to  occur. 

"The  first  men  that  came  through  came  with  James 
and  his  brother,  Charles  Biles,  Sargent,  Downey,  James 
Longmire,  Van  Ogle,  two  Atkins,  Lane,  a  brother-in-law 
of  Sargent,  Kincaid,  two  Woolery's,  Lane  of  Puyallup, 


■Nisqually   Plains. 


BUILDING    OF    THE    NATCHESS    PASS    ROAD  23 J 

E.  A.  Light,  John  Eagan  (Reagan),  Charley  Fitch.   Meek- 
er, I  am  quite  sick;  when  I  get  well  I  will  write  more 
detailed  account;  it  is  as  much  as  I  can  do  to  sit  up. 
"Yours  in  haste,  as  ever, 

"A.  J.  BURGE." 

This  man  I  have  known  for  over  fifty  years,  and  it 
touched  me  to  think  at  the  age  bordering  on  eighty,  he 
should  get  up  out  of  a  sick  bed  to  comply  with  my  re- 
quest. He  has  written  the  truth,  and  some  of  the  infor- 
mation we  could  get  in  no  other  way. 

It  seems  that  some  people  live  a  charmed  life.  Burge 
was  shot  by  a  would-be  assassin  a  few  miles  out  from 
Steilacoom  over  forty  years  ago,  the  bullet  going  through 
his  neck,  just  missing  the  jugular  vein. 

While  it  is  a  complete  digression,  nevertheless,  just 
as  interesting  here  as  elsewhere,  so  I  will  tell  the  story 
of  this  shooting  to  further  illustrate  conditions  of  early 
settlement  on  the  Nisqually  plains.  The  man  with  the 
thirteen  cows  and  thirty  calves  mentioned  elsewhere, 
lived  near  Burge.  The  most  desperate  character  I  ever 
knew,  Charles  McDaniel,  also  was  a  near  neighbor,  but 
a  friend  of  Andy,  as  we  used  to  call  Burge.  Both  lost 
stock  that  could  be  traced  directly  to  their  neighbor. 
Wren,  the  man  with  the  extra  calves,  but  it  was  no  use 
to  prosecute  him  as  a  jury  could  not  be  procured  that 
would  convict.  I  had  myself  tried  it  in  our  court  with 
the  direct  evidence  of  the  branded  hide  taken  from  him. 
but  a  bribed  juryman  refused  to  convict.  For  a  few 
years  and  for  this  district  and  with  the  class  previously 
described  as  occupying  the  country  adjacent  to  Steila- 
coom, there  seemed  to  be  no  redress  through  our  courts. 
Finally  Burge   and   McDaniel    waylaid   their   neighbor   a 


232   VENTURES  AND_  ADVENTURES  OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

few  miles  out  from  Steilacoom,  tied  him  to  a  tree,  and 
whipped  him  most  unmercifully.  I  have  never  yet  given 
my  approval  to  mob  law  and  never  will,  believing  that 
it  is  better  to  suffer  awhile,  bide  one's  time  until  laws 
can  be  enforced,  rather  than  to  join  in  actions  that  will 
breed  contempt  for  law  and  lead  to  anarchy.  But,  if 
ever  there  was  a  justifiable  case  of  men  taking  the  law 
in  their  own  hands,  this  was  one  of  them,  and  is  intro- 
duced here  to  illustrate  a  condition  of  affairs  that  had 
grown  up  which  seemed  well  nigh  intolerable.  After 
the  whipping  Wren  was  warned  to  leave  the  country, 
which  he  could  not  well  do,  tied  to  a  tree  as  he  was  until 
third  parties  discovered  and  released  him,  but  which 
he  speedily  did,  although  the  wealthiest  man  in  the  county. 
No  prosecutions  followed,  but  in  the  lapse  of  time  a  col- 
ored man  appeared  at  Steilacoom  and  spent  much  time 
hunting  herbs  on  the  prairies,  until  one  day  Burge  was 
going  home  from  Steilacoom  in  his  wagon,  when  this 
centre  shot  was  fired  with  the  result  as  related.  The 
colored  man  disappeared  as  mysteriously  as  he  came, 
but  everyone  believed  he  had  been  hired  to  assassinate 
Burge  and  McDaniel,  and  as  afterwards  proven  was  the 
case. 

But  the  trouble  was  not  ended  here.  The  lawless 
neighbor  had  gone,  but  not  lawlessness.  The  old  story 
that  lawlessness  begets  lawlessness  was  again  proven. 
McDaniel  and  others  concluded  that  as  Wren  was  gone, 
they  could  prey  upon  his  land  holdings,  which  for  twen- 
ty-five years  in  Pierce  County  was  no  more  than  squat- 
ter's rights,  in  consequence  of  that  intolerable  claim  of 
the  Puget  Sound  Agricultural  Company,  mentioned  else- 
where.    At   this,   most   of  the   community   rebelled   and 


BUILDING    OF    THE    NATCHESS    PASS    ROAD  233 

warned  McDaniel,  but  to  no  purpose,  until  finally  he  was 
shot  down  on  the  streets  of  Steilacoom,  or  rather  a 
vacant  lot  in  a  public  place,  and  lay  for  hours  in  his 
death  struggles  uncared  for,  and  his  pal  murdered  in 
the  wagon  that  was  carrying  him  to  a  scaffold.  The 
two  had  been  waylaid,  but  had  escaped,  only  to  meet 
their  fate  in  a  more  public  manner.  Burge  narrowly 
escaped  a  like  fate  at  the  hands  of  the  mob,  hecause  of 
his  near  neighborship  with  McDaniel  and  of  his  par- 
ticipation with  him  in  the  first  instance  that  had  led 
up  to  the  final  catastrophe.  But  Burge  was  an  honor- 
able man,  though  rough  in  manner,  yet  just  in  his  deal- 
ings, while  McDaniel  was  a  gambler  and  a  blackleg  of 
the  very  worst,  imaginable  type.  The  Indian  war  had 
brought  to  the  front  many  vicious  characters,  and  the 
actions  of  some  officials  in  high  places  had  encouraged 
lawlessness,  so,  as  a  community,  the  near  by  country 
round  and  about  Steilacoom  was  scourged  almost  beyond 
belief. 

And  yet  there  were  genuine  pioneer  settlements  in 
not  very  far  off  regions  of  this  storm  center  of  lawless- 
ness, where  the  law  was  as  cheerfully  obeyed  as  in  any 
old  and  well  settled  community,  where  crime  was  scarce- 
ly known,  and  where  family  ties  were  held  as  sacred  as 
any  place  on  earth,  and  where  finally  the  influence  spread 
over  the  whole  land  and  the  whole  community  leavened. 

By  these  incidents  related  it  will  be  seen  that  pioneers 
were  neither  all  saints  nor  all  sinners,  but  like  with  older 
communities  had  their  trials  other  than  the  supposed 
discomforts  incident  to  pioneer  life. 

The  reader  may  not  have  noticed  that  Burge  in  his 
letter  mentions  that  there  are  still  trees  (he  means  logs), 


234        VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

yet  to  be  seen  with  the  three  notches  cut  in  them,  where 
the  immigrant  road  had  been  cut.  I  had  forgotten  the 
third  notch,  but  it  all  comes  back  to  me  now  that  he 
has  mentioned  it.  These  logs  that  we  bridged  up  to 
and  cut  the  notches  in  for  the  wheels  in  most  cases  had 
to  have  the  third  notch  in  the  center  to  save  the  coupling 
pole  or  reach  from  catching  on  the  log,  especially  where 
the  bridging  did  not  extend  out  far  from  the  log  to  be 
crossed.  Oftentimes  the  wagon  would  be  unloaded,  the 
wagon  box  taken  off,  the  wagon  uncoupled  and  taken 
over  the  obstruction  or  down  or  up  it,  as  the  case  might 
be,  to  be  loaded  again  beyond. 

It  will  be  noticed  by  Mr.  Himes'  letter  that  their 
party  came  all  the  way  up  the  canyon  and  crossed  the 
Natchess  River  68  times  while  I  crossed  it  but  thirty  odd 
times.  At  or  near  the  32d  crossing,  the  road  workers 
took  to  the  table  land  and  abandoned  the  lower  stretch 
of  the  canyon,  and  through  that  portion  the  train  which 
Mr.  Himes  refers  to  was  compelled  to  cut  their  own  road 
for  a  long  stretch.  But  that  part  reported  cut  was  cer- 
tainly a  hard  road  to  travel,  and  we  had  to  work  more 
or  less  all  the  way  down  the  mountain ;  as  Colonel  E. 
J.  Allen,  who  is  yet  alive,  quaintly  put  it  in  a  recent 
letter:  "Assuredly  the  road  was  not  sand  papered."  I 
should  say  not.  I  think  the  Colonel  was  not  much  of  a 
teamster  and  had  never  handled  the  goad  stick  over  the 
road  or  elsewhere,  as  I  did,  else  he  would  be  more  sym- 
pathetic in  responses  to  outcries  against  the  "execrable 
shadow  of  a  road." 

Nelson  Sargent  mentioned  by  Mr.  Himes  still  lives 
and  is  a  respected,  truthful  citizen,  but  he  certainly  did 
take  great  risks  in  leading  that  first  train  of  immigrants 


BUILDING    OF    THE    NATCHESS    PASS    ROAD  2:55 

into  that  trap  of  an  uncut  road  up  the  Natchess  River. 
The  whole  party  narrowly  escaped  starvation  in  the  moun- 
tains and  Sargent  a  greater  risk  of  his  neck  at  the  hands 
of  indignant  immigrants  while  in  the  mountains,  if  we 
may  believe  the  reports  that  came  out  at  the  time  from 
the  rescued  train.  However,  I  never  believed  that  Sar- 
gent intended  to  deceive,  but  was  over-sanguine  and  was 
himself  deceived,  and  that  Kirtley's  failure  to  continue 
in  the  field  was  the  cause  of  the  suffering  that  followed. 
Allen  sent  300  pounds  of  flour  to  Wenass  and  a  cour- 
ier came  to  to  Olympia,  whereupon  "Old  Mike  Simmons," 
Bush,  Jones,  and  others,  forthwith  started  with  half  a 
ton  of  flour,  onions,  potatoes,  etc.,  and  met  them  beyond 
the  outskirts  of  the  settlement.  All  that  was  necessary 
those  days  for  a  person  to  get  help  was  to  let  it  become 
known  that  some  one  was  in  distress  and.  there  would 
always  be  willing  hands  without  delay;  in  fact,  condi- 
tions almost  approached  the  socialistic  order  of  com- 
mon property  as  to  food,  by  the  voluntary  actions  of  the 
great,  big  hearted  early  settlers,  as  shown  in  other  in- 
stances related,  as  well  as  in  this.  God  bless  those  early 
settlers,  the  real  pioneers  of  that  day. 

The  Indian  Leschi,  who  we  have  seen  contributed  to 
the  work,  utilized  the  road  to  make  his  escape  with  sev- 
enty of  his  people,  after  his  disastrous  defeat  at  the  hands 
of  the  volunteers  and  United  States  troops  in  March, 
1856,  to  cross  the  summit  on  the  snow,  so  that  after  all, 
in  a  way,  he  received  a  benefit  from  his  liberality  in 
times  of  peace. 

Two  years  after  the  opening  the  road,  the  Hudson 
Bay  Company  sent  a  train  of  three  hundred  horses  load- 


236   VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

ed  with  furs,  from  the  interior  country  to  Fort  Nisqually, 
with  a  return  of  merchandise  through  the  same  pass,  but 
never  repeated  the  experiment. 


ABOUT    INDIANS  237 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 

ABOUT    INDIANS. 

The  outbreak  of  an  Indian  war,  soon  followed  the 
first  treaty  making.  The  Indians  had  been  outrageously- 
cheated  and  deceived  and  war  followed. 

"October  28th,  1855,  nine  persons  were  massacred 
on  White  River,  about  twenty  miles  South  of  Seattle." 
Such  is  the  record  of  that  bloody  day's  work,  eighteen 
miles  distant  from  where  I  was  living,  six  miles  east  of 
Port  Steilacoom. 

"The  Indians  have  broken  out,"  was  passed  from  one 
settler's  cabin  to  another  by  rumors,  so  quickly  that  by 
the  morning  of  the  29th  all  were  on  the  move  towards  the 
fort,  which  in  fact  was  no  fort  at  all — simply  a  few 
cabins  and  some  thin  board  houses. 

I  had  lived  in  peace  with  these  Indians  and  they  had 
gained  my  confidence,  and  as  the  sequel  subsequently 
showed,  I  held  their  friendship  and  confidence,  for  in  af- 
tertimes,  during  the  war,  a  war  party  held  me  harmless 
within  their  power,  as  they  had  said  they  would  of  those 
who  had  advocated  their  cause  at  the  time  the  treaties 
were  made. 

Soon  after  the  outbreak  noted,  I  disregarded  the 
earnest  entreaties  of  many,  went  back  to  my  stock  and 
to  the  cabin  and  cared  for  the  abandoned  dairy  and  young 
stock.  I  did  not  believe  the  Indians  would  molest  me, 
but  took  the  precaution  of  having  my  rifle  in  a  convenient 


*  Fully  told  in  my  "Tragedy  of  Leschi,"  to  which  the  reader  is 
referred  who  may  wish  to  acquaint  themselves  of  the  early  history 
of  the  Northwest  and  Indian  Warfare:  575  pages,  6x9,  silk  cloth 
binding-;  now  reduced  to  $2.25  postpaid.  Address  Ezra  Meeker.  1201 
38th  Ave.  N.,   Seattle,  Wash. 


238        VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

place.  But  I  did  not  need  to  use  it.  When  nightfall 
came,  however,  I  did  withdraw  from  my  cabin,  not  in 
fear  of  war  parties,  but  as  against  individual  outlaws. 

As  the  sole  military  record  of  my  life  consisted  in 
my  experience  with  a  company  of  17  settlers  to  make  a 
raid  to  the  Puyallup  valley  soon  after  the  outbreak  de- 
scribed, I  thought  to  "save"  my  prestige  and  tell  about  it. 

The  settlers  of  Puyallup  had  left  their  homes  the 
next  day  after  the  massacre  in  such  haste,  that  they  were 
almost  absolutely  destitute  of  clothing,  bedding  and  food, 
as  well  as  shelter.  A  strong  military  force  had  pene- 
trated the  Indian  country : — the  upper  Puyallup  valley 
and  beyond,  we  knew,  but  did  not  know  they  had  re- 
treated by  another  road, — virtually  driven  out — the  very 
day  we  went  in  armed  with  all  sorts  of  guns  and  with 
scarcely  any  organization.  AVe  had,  however,  not  gone 
into  the  Indian  stronghold  to  fight  Indians,  but  to  re- 
cover property,  nevertheless,  there  would  have  been  hot 
work  if  attacked.  The  settlers  knew  the  country  as  well 
as  the  Indians,  and  were  prepared  to  meet  them  on  their 
own  grounds  and  in  their  own  way — by  couples  or  singly 
if  need  be.  The  Indians  were  in  great  force  but  a  few 
miles  distant,  and  had  their  scouts  on  our  tracks,  but 
did  not  molest  us  while  Ave  visited  every  settler's  cabin, 
secured  their  belongings  not  destroyed  and  on  the  sixth 
day  came  away  with  great  loads  of  "plunder,"  all  the 
while  in  blissful  ignorance  that  the  troops  had  been  with- 
drawn, and  no  protection  lay  between  us  and  the  Indian 
forces. 

This  was  the  beginning  of  the  discrimination  of  the 
Indians  in  favor  of  non-combatants,  which  became  so  pro- 
nounced as  the  war  progressed. 


THE   FRASER    RIVER    STAMPEDE  239 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 

THE   FRASER   RIVER   STAMPEDE. 

On  the  21st  day  of  March,  1858,  the  schooner  Wild 
Pidgeon  arrived  at  Steilacoom,  and  brought  the  news  that 
the  Indians  had  discovered  gold  on  Fraser  River;  had 
traded  several  pounds  of  the  precious  metal  with  the 
Hudson  Bay  Company,  and  that  three  hundred  people 
had  left  Victoria  and  vicinity  for  the  new  eldorado.  And. 
further,  the  report  ran,  the  mines  were  exceedingly  rich. 

The  next  day  there  came  further  reports  from  the 
north,  that  the  Bellingham  Bay  Company's  coal  mines 
had  been  compelled  to  suspend  work,  as  all  their  opera- 
tives but  three  had  started  for  the  mines,  that  many  of 
the  logging  camps  had  shut  down,  and  all  the  mills  were 
running  on  short  time  from  the  same  cause. 

The  wave  of  excitement  that  ran  through  the  little 
town  upon  the  receipt  of  this  news  was  repeated  in  eveiy 
town  and  hamlet  of  the  whole  Pacific  Coast,  and  con- 
tinued around  the  world,  sending  thither  adventurous 
spirits  from  all  civilized  countries  of  the  earth. 

But  when  the  word  came  the  next  week  that  one 
hundred  and  ten  pounds  of  gold  had  actually  been  re- 
ceived in  Victoria,  and  that  hundreds  of  men  were  out- 
fitting, the  virulence  of  the  gold  fever  knew  no  bounds, 
and  everybody,  women  folks  and  all,  wanted  to  go.  and 
would  have  started  pell-mell  had  there  not  been  that  re- 
straining influence  of  the  second  sober  thought  of  people 
who  had  just  gone  through  the  mill  of  adversity.  My 
family  was  still  in  the  block  house  we  had  built  during 
the   war   in   the   town   of   Steilacoom.      Our   cattle   were 


240        VENTURES   AND   ADVENTURES    OF   EZRA   MEEKER 

peacefully  grazing  on  the  plains  a  few  miles  distant, 
but  there  remained  a  spirit  of  unrest  that  one  could 
not  fail  to  observe.  There  had  been  no  Indian  depreda- 
tions for  two  years  west  of  the  Cascade  Mountains,  but 
some  atrocious  murders  had  been  committed  by  a  few 
renegade  white  men,  besides  the  murder  of  Leschi  under 
the  forms  of  law  that  had  but  recently  taken  place.  The 
Indians  just  over  the  mountains  were. in  a  threatening 
mood,  and  in  fact  soon  again  broke  out  into  open  war- 
fare and  inflicted  heavy  punishment  on  Steptoe's  com- 
mand, and  came  very  near  annihilating  that  whole  de- 
tachment. 

The  close  of  the  Indian  war  of  1855-6  had  engendered 
a  reckless  spirit  among  what  may  be  called  the  unsettled 
class  that  to  many  of  the  more  sober  minded  was  looked 
upon  as  more  dangerous  than  the  Indians  among  us. 
In  the  wake  of  the  United  States  army  paymaster  came 
a  vile  set  of  gamblers  and  blacklegs  that  preyed  upon  the 
soldiers,  officers  and  men  alike,  who  became  a  menace  to 
the  peace  of  the  communitly,  and,  like  a  veritable  bed- 
lam turned  loose,  often  made  night  hideous  with  their 
carousals.  The  reader  need  not  feel  this  is  an  overdrawn 
picture  for  it  is  not.  We  must  remember  the  common 
soldiers  of  the  United  States  army  fifty  years  ago  were 
very  different  from  our  army  of  the  present  time.  At 
least  such  was  the  case  with  the  forces  stationed  at  Fort 
Steilacoom  at  the  time  of  which  I  am  writing. 

On  illustration.  Having  drifted  into  a  small  busi- 
ness conducted  in  our  block  house  at  Steilacoom,  in  an 
unguarded  moment  I  let  a  half  dozen  of  the  blue-coats 
(as  the  soldiers  were  then  universally  called),  have  a 
few  articles  on  credit.     These  men   told  their  comrades, 


THE    FRASER    RIVER    STAMPEDE  -'41 

who  came  soliciting'  credit  but  were  refused,  when  some 
drunken  members  of  the  party  swore  they  would  come 
strong  enough  to  take  the  goods  anyway,  and  actually 
did  come  at  night  thirty  strong,  and  having  been  refused 
admission,  began  breaking  down  the  door.  A  shot  through 
the  door  that  scattered  splinters  among  the  assembled 
crowd  served  as  a  warning  that  caused  them  to  desist, 
and  no  damage  was  done,  but  the  incident  serves  to 
illustrate  the  conditions  prevailing  at  the  time  the  gold 
discovery  was  reported.  Pierce  County  contributed  its 
contingent  of  gold  seekers,  some  of  the  desperadoes  and 
some  of  the  best  citizens.  One  Charles  McDaniel,  who 
killed  his  man  while  gone,  returned  to  plague  us;  an- 
other, one  of  our  merchants,  Samuel  McCaw,  bundled  up 
a  few  goods,  made  a  flying  trip  up  Fraser  River,  came 
back  with  fifty  ounces  of  gold  dust  and  with  the  news 
the  mines  were  all  that  had  been  reported,  and  more,  too, 
which  of  course  added  fuel  to  the  burning  flame  of  the 
all-prevalent  gold  fever.  We  all  then  believed  a  new 
era  had  dawned  upon  us,  similar  to  that  of  ten  years  be- 
fore in  California  that  changed  the  world's  history.  High 
hopes  were  built,  most  of  them  to  end  in  disappointment. 
Not  but  there  were  extensive  mines,  and  that  they  were 
rich,  and  that  they  were  easily  worked,  but,  how  to  get 
there  was  the  puzzling  question.  The  early  voyagers 
had  slipped  up  the  Fraser  before  the  freshets  that  came 
from  the  melting  snows  to  swell  the  torrents  of  that  river. 
Those  going  later  either  failed  altogether  and  gave  up 
the  unequal  contest,  or  lost  an  average  of  one  canoe  or 
boat  out  of  three  in  the  persistent  attempt.  How  many 
lives  were  lost,  never  will  be  known. 

"Beginning   at  a   stump   in   the  bank   of  said   creek 


24.'        VENTUREJS   AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA   MEEKER 

(Squaleclim),  about  20  feet  above  the  bridge  near  the 
mouth  of  said  creek;  thence  running  due  west  240  feet; 
thence  due  south  60  feet;  thence  due  east  240  feet;  thence 
due  north  60  feet  to  the  place  of  beginning."  Such  is 
the  description  of  a  tract  of  land  as  recorded  on  the 
book  of  records  of  deeds  for  the  county  of  Whatcom, 
bearing  date  of  June  25th,  1858.  On  that  date  I  was  in 
Whatcom,  and  saw  the  sights  and  acted  my  part  as  one 
of  the  wild  men  of  the  north  country,  received  a  deed 
for  the  land  as  described  from  Edward  Eldridge,  who  then 
resided  on  his  claim  adjoining  the  town  of  Whatcom, 
and  where  he  continued  until  his  death.  No  public  sur- 
veys had  up  to  that  time  been  made,  and  so,  to  describe 
a  lot  I  was  purchasing  of  Mr.  Eldridge,  what  more  dur- 
able monument  could  we  select  than  a  big  stump  of  one 
of  those  giants  of  the  monster  forests  fronting  on  Bell- 
ingham  Bay. 

Going  back  a  little  in  my  story  to  the  receipt  of  the 
news  of  the  discovery  on  the  Fraser  and  Thompson  Riv- 
ers, each  succeeding  installment  of  news  that  came  to 
Steilacoom  more  than  confirmed  the  original  report.  Con- 
tingents began  to  arrive  in  Steilacoom  from  Oregon, 
from  California,  and  finally  from  "the  States,"  as  all 
of  our  country  east  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  was  desig- 
nated by  pioneers.  Steamers  great  and  small  began  to* 
appear  with  more  or  less  cargo  and  passenger  lists,  which 
we  heard  were  as  nothing  compared  to  what  was  going 
on  less  than  a  hundred  miles  to  the  north  of  us.  These 
people  landing  in  Whatcom  in  such  great  numbers  must 
be  fed,  we  agreed,  and  if  the  multitude  would  not  come 
to  us  to  drink  the  milk  of  our  dairies  and  eat  the  but- 
ter, what  better  could  we  do  than  to  take  our  cows  to 


THE   FRASER    RIVER    STAMPEDE  243 

the  multitude  where  we  were  told  people  did  not  hesitate 
to  pay  a  dollar  a  gallon  for  milk  and  any  price  one  might 
ask  for  fresh  butter. 

But,  how  to  get  even  to  Whatcom  was  the  "rub." 
All  space  on  the  steamers  was  taken  from  week  to  week 
for  freight  and  passengers,  and  no  room  left  for  cattle. 
In  fact,  the  movement  of  provisions  was  so  great  that 
at  one  time  we  were  almost  threatened  with  a  veritable 
famine,  so  close  had  the  stock  of  food  been  shipped. 
Finally,  our  cattle,  mostly  cows,  were  loaded  in  an  open 
scow  and  taken  in  tow  along  side  of  the  steamer  (Sea 
Bird,  I  think  it  was),  where  all  went  smoothly  enough 
until  we  arrived  off  the  head  of  Whidby  Island,  where 
a  chopped  sea  from  a  light  wind  began  slopping  over 
into  the  scow  and  evidently  would  sink  us  despite  our 
utmost  efforts  at  bailing.  When  the  captain  would  slow 
down  the  speed  of  his  steamer  all  was  well,  but  the 
moment  greater  power  was  applied,  over  the  gunwales 
would  come  the  water.  The  dialogue  that  ensued  be- 
tween myself  and  the  Captain  was  more  emphatic  than 
elegant  and  perhaps  would  not  look  well  in  print,  but 
he  dare  not  risk  let  go  of  us  or  run  us  under  without 
incurring  the  risk  of  heavy  damages  and  probable  loss 
of  life.  But  I  stood  by  my  guns  (figuratively),  and  would 
not  consent  to  be  landed,  and  so  about  the  20th  of  Jmn 
tired  and  sleepy,  we  were  set  adrift  in  Bellingham  Bay, 
and  landed  near  the  big  stump  described  as  the  starting 
point  for  the  land  purchased  later. 

But  our  cows  must  have  feed,  must  be  milked,  and 
the  milk  marketed,  and  so  there  was  no  rest  nor  sleep 
for  us  for  another  thirty-six  hours.  In  fact,  there  was 
but  little  sleep  for  anybody  on  that  beach  at  the  time. 


244         VENTURES    AND   ADVENTURES    OF   EZRA    MEEKER 

Several  ocean  steamers  had  just  clumped  three  thousand 
people  on  the  beach,  and  the  scramble  still  continued 
to  find  a  place  to  build  a  house  or  stretch  a  tent,  or 
even  to  spread  a  blanket,  for  there  were  great  numbers 
already  on  hand  landed  by  previous  steamers.  The  stak- 
ing of  lots  on  the  tide  flats  at  night,  when  the  tide  was 
out,  seemed  to  be  a  staple  industry.  Driving  of  piles 
or  planting  of  posts  as  permanent  as  possible  often  pre- 
ceded and  accompanied  by  high  words  between  contest- 
ants came  to  be  a  commonplace  occurrence.  The  belief 
among  these  people  seemed  to  be  that  if  they  could  get 
stakes  or  posts  to  stand  on  end,  and  a  six-inch  strip 
nailed  to  them  to  encompass  a  given  spot  of  the  flats, 
that  they  would  thereby  become  the  owner,  and  so  the 
merry  war  went  on  until  the  bubble  bursted. 

A  few  days  after  my  arrival  four  steamers  came  with 
an  aggregate  of  over  two  thousand  passengers,  many  of 
whom,  however,  did  not  leave  the  steamer  and  took  pas- 
sage either  to  their  port  of  departure,  San  Francisco. 
Victoria,  or  points  on  the  Sound.  The  ebb  tide  had  set 
in,  and  although  many  steamers  came  later  and  landed 
passengers,  their  return  lists  soon  became  large  and  the 
population  began  to  diminish. 

Taking  my  little  dory  that  we  had  with  us  on  the 
scow,  I  rowed  out  to  the  largest  steamer  lying  at  anchor 
surrounded  by  small  boats  so  numerous  that  in  common 
parlance  the  number  was  measured  by  the  acre,  "an 
acre  of  boats."  Whether  or  not  an  acre  of  space  was 
covered  by  these  crafts  striving  to  reach  the  steamer 
I  will  not  pretend  to  say,  but  can  say  that  I  certainly 
could  not  get  within  a  hundred  feet  of  the  steamer. 
All  sorts  of  craft  filled  the  intervening  space,  from  the 


THE    FRASER    RIVER    STAMPEDE  245 

smallest  Indian  canoe  to  large  barges,  the  owners  of 
each  either  striving  to  secure  a  customer  from  a  hapless 
passenger,  or,  having  secured  one,  of  transferring  his 
belongings  to  the  craft. 

There  were  but  a  few  women  in  this  crowd,  but 
ashore,  quite  too  many,  a  large  majority  of  whom  (those 
on  the  ground  will  remember),  were  too  much  like  their 
arch  representative,  "Old  Mother  Damnable,"  well  and 
truly  named.     But  I  draw  the  veil. 

"Where's  DeLacy?"  became  a  by-word  after  weeks 
of  earnest  inquiry  of  the  uninitiated  as  to  what  was  trans- 
piring out  at  the  front,  where  supposed  work  was  going 
on  to  construct  a  trail  leading  through  the  Cascade  Moun- 
tains to  the  mouth  of  Thompson  River,  that  emptied 
into  the  Fraser  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles  easterly  from 
Whatcom.  If  a  trail  could  be  constructed  through  the 
mountains  from  Whatcom,  then  the  town  would  at  once 
bloom  into  a  city,  and  the  fortunes  of  townsite  pro- 
prietors would  be  made,  and  all  might  go  to  the  mines 
whose  spirit  moved  them.  It  all  looked  very  feasible  on 
paper,  but  several  obstacles  not  taken  into  account  by 
the  impatient  crowd  defeated  all  their  hopes.  A  fund 
had  been  raised  by  subscription  at  the  inception  of  the 
excitement  to  send  out  parties  to  search  for  a  pass,  and 
W.  W.  DeLacy.  an  engineer  of  considerable  note,  started 
out  early  in  the  season,  and  so  far  as  I  know  never  came 
back  to  Whatcom. 

Directly  this  party  was  sent  out  to  search  for  a  pass 
through  the  mountains  another  party  was  set  to  work 
to  follow  and  cut  the  trail.  All  seemingly  went  well 
for  awhile,  and  until  there  came  no  word  to  the  public 
from  DeLacv.     The  trail  workers  were  vet  at  work,  but 


246    VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES  OP  EZRA  MEEKER 

did  not  know  what  was  ahead  of  them.  DeLacy  had  to 
them  become  a  sort  of  myth.  The  fact  was  he  had  failed 
to  find  a  pass,  and  when  he  arrived  at  a  point  that  he 
thought  was  the  summit,  he  had  yet  fifty  miles  or  more 
of  the  worst  of  the  mountains  ahead  of  him.  Mean- 
while, the  trail  out  from  Whatcom  for  forty  or  fifty 
miles  became  well  worn  by  men  and  animals  going  and 
returning.  I  saw  sixty  men  with  heavy  packs  on  their 
backs  start  out  in  one  company,  everyone  of  whom  had 
to  come  back  after  floundering  in  the  mountains  for 
weeks.  So  long  as  there  could  be  kept  up  a  hope  that 
the  trail  would  be  cut  through,  just  so  long  a  complete 
collapse  of  the  townsite  boom  might  be  averted,  and  so 
DeLacy  was  kept  in  the  mountains  searching  for  a  pass 
which  was  never  found. 

About  the  time  I  landed  in  Whatcom,  H.  L.  Yesler 
and  Arthur  A.  Denny  headed  a  party  to  go  through  the 
Snoqualmie  Pass,  but  they  did  not  reach  the  open  coun- 
try. W.  H.  Pearson,  the  intrepid  scout,  who  won  such 
laurels  with  Governor  Stevens  in  his  famous  ride  from 
the  Blackfeet  country,  conducted  a  party  of  eighty-two 
persons,  sixty-seven  of  whom  packed  their  bedding  and 
food  on  their  backs,  through  the  Snoqualmie  Pass  to 
the  Wenatchee,  where  they  were  met  by  the  Indians  in 
such  numbers  and  threatening  mood  that  nearly  all  beat 
a  hasty  retreat. 

Simultaneous  with  the  movement  through  the  Sno- 
qualmie Pass,  like  action  was  set  on  foot  to  utilize  the 
Natchess  Pass,  and  large  numbers  must  have  gotten 
through,  as  on  August  7th  the  report  was  published 
that  fourteen  hundred  miners  were  at  work  on  the  Nat- 
chess  and  Wenatchee.     This  report  we  know  to  be  un- 


THE     FRASER     RIVER     STAMPEDE  247 

true,  although  it  is  possible  that  that  many  prospectors 
were  on  those  rivers,  and  we  know  also  some  gold  was 
taken  out,  and  more  for  many  years  afterwards.  But  the 
mines  on  these  rivers  did  not  prove  to  be  rich  nor  ex- 
tensive. 

At  the  same  time  efforts  were  made  to  reach  the 
mines  by  crossing  the  mountains  further  south.  The  peo- 
ple of  Oregon  were  sure  the  best  way  was  to  go  up  the 
Columbia  River  to  The  Dalles,  and  thence  north  through 
the  open  country,  and  more  than  a  thousand  men  were 
congregated  at  The  Dalles  at  one  time  preparing  to  make 
the  trip  northward. 

All  this  while  the  authorities  of  British  Columbia 
were  not  asleep,  but  fully  awake  to  their  own  interests. 
Soon  Governor  Douglass  put  a  quietus  upon  parties 
going  direct  from  Puget  Sound  ports  into  the  Fraser 
River,  and  several  outfits  of  merchandise  were  confis- 
cated, among  which  was  one  of  McCaw  and  Rogers  from 
Steilacoom.  Another  effectual  barrier  was  the  prohibi- 
tion from  entering  the  country  without  a  miner's  license, 
which  could  be  obtained  only  at  Victoria.  In  this  way 
the  Whatcom  game  was  blocked,  with  or  without  a  trail, 
and  the  population  disappeared  nearly  as  rapidly  and 
more  mysteriously  than  it  had  come,  and  the  houses  that 
had  been  built  were  left  tenantless,  the  stakes  that  had 
been  set  were  left  to  be  swept  away  by  the  tides  or  to 
decay,  and  Whatcom  for  a  time  became  only  a  memory 
to  its  once  great  population. 

It  is  doubtful  if  a  stampede  of  such  dimensions  ever 
occurred  where  the  suffering  was  so  great,  the  prizes  so 
few  and  the  loss  of  life,  proportionately  greater  than  that 
to  the  Fraser  in   1858.     Probably  not   one   in   ten    that 


248        VENTURES   AND   ADVENTURES   OF   EZRA   MEEKER 

made  the  effort  reached  the  mines,  and  of  those  who  did 
the  usual  percentage  of  blanks  were  drawn  incident  to 
such  stampedes.  And  yet,  the  mines  were  immensely  rich, 
and  many  millions  of  dollars  of  gold  value  came  from 
the  find  in  the  lapse  of  years,  and  is  still  coming,  though 
now  nearly  fifty  years  have  passed. 

While  the  losses  to  the  people  of  the  Puget  Sound 
country  were  great,  nevertheless,  good  came  out  of  the 
great  stampede  in  the  large  accession  of  population  that 
remained  after  the  return  tide  was  over.  Many  had  be- 
come stranded  and  could  not  leave  the  country,  but  went 
to  work  with  a  will,  of  whom  not  a  few  are  still  honored 
citizens  of  the  State  that  has  been  carved  out  of  the  Ter- 
ritory of  that  day. 


AN  OLD   SETTLERS-    MEETING  249 

CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

AN  OLD  SETTLERS'  MEETING. 

The  fact  that  the  generation  that  participated  in  the 
Indian  war  in  this  State  (then  Territory)  will  soon  pass, 
an  attempt  was  made  to  hold  a  reunion  of  all  the  adults 
who  were  in  Pierce  County  at  the  outbreak  of  the  Indian 
war  in  1855,  who  are  still  living  in  the  county. 

Naturally,  the  incidents  of  the  war  coming  under  per- 
sonal observation  formed  a  never-ending  topic  of  conver- 
sation. Mrs.  Boatman  related  the  incident  of  her  boy 
"Johnny"  (John  Boatman,  who  now  lives  in  Puyallup), 
two  years  and  a  half  old,  who  was  carried  off  by  the 
Indians,  as  she  firmly  believes,  but  was  found  under  an 
oak  tree  the  following  day.  The  whole  garrison  at  Steil- 
acoom  turned  out,  together  with  a  great  many  citizens, 
and  scoured  the  prairie  all  night.  Colonel  Casey,  the 
commandant,  threatened  vengeance  against  the  Indians 
if  the  child  was  not  returned.  The  theory  was  that  the 
Indians  had  taken  him  for  a  ransom  of  their  own  people 
held  by  the  whites. 

A  romantic  incident  was  recalled  of  Kate  Melville, 
the  lady  deputy  sheriff.  Her  father  was  the  first  sheriff 
of  Pierce  County,  and  during  his  term  of  office  was  im- 
prisoned for  contempt  of  court.  Kate  was  a  beautiful 
girl,  in  ideal  health,  and  a  superb  equestrienne,  but  withal 
was  a  modest,  retiring  woman.  When  her  father  was 
incarcerated  she  was  aroused  to  action  and  accepted  the 
appointment  of  deputy  sheriff  with  a  resolute  spirit,  de- 
termined to  take  the  responsibility  of  enforcing  the  law. 

"Yes,  I  saw  Kate  coming  down  from  the  garrison  one 


250        VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES  OP  EZRA  MEEKER 

day  with  some  prisoners  with  a  pistol  strapped  to  her 
person,"  said  Willis  Boatman,  "but  I  do  not  remember 
what  her  father  was  imprisoned  for." 

Scarcely  one  present  but  remembered  the  incident 
"that  seemed  like  a  dream  almost,"  in  the  lapse  of  forty- 
five  years. 

I  remember  seeing  Kate  on  horseback,  while  acting 
as  deputy  sheriff  during  those  troublous  times,  and  had 
often  thought  to  write  up  this  romantic  incident  of  real 
stern  pioneer  life,  but  space  will  not  permit  it  here,  fur- 
ther than  to  say  that  the  responsibilities  of  the  office 
were  undertaken  from  a  sense  of  duty  and  under  intense 
loyalty  to  her  father.  Both  now  lie  peacefully  under  the 
sod  in  the  county  in  which  their  lot  was  cast. 

"We  moved  out  to  my  father's  place  about  two 
months  after  the  outbreak  of  the  war,"  said  George 
Dougherty.  "The  Indians  sent  us  word  not  to  be  afraid 
— that  they  would  not  harm  us.  I  had  lived  among  the 
Indians  from  childhood,  and  in  fact  had  learned  to  talk 
the  Indian  language  before  I  could  speak  my  mother 
tongue.  At  that  time  I  believe  there  were  twenty  Indians 
to  where  there  is  one  now.  Most  of  the  Indians  were 
friendly.  Had  it  been  otherwise  they  could  have  wiped 
out  the  white  settlement  completely,  in  spite  of  the  mili- 
tary and  volunteers." 

"Yes,  and  not  left  a  grease  spot  of  them,"  said  Mr. 
Rogers.  "But  the  fact  is,  the  Indians  did  not  want  to 
fight  the  whites,  but  were  dissatisfied  with  their  treat- 
ment by  the  government.  They  wanted  their  land  back, 
and  got  it,  too,  after  they  whipped  the  whites,  which 
they  did  this  side  of  the  mountains.  If  it  had  not  been 
that  a  majority  of  the  Indians  were  in  favor  of  peace 


AN  OLD   SETTLERS'   MEETING  251 

with  the  whites,  they  could  have  held  this  country  for  a 
number  of  years.  In  fact,  there  were  fifty  or  sixty  In- 
dians who  fought  on  the  side  of  the  whites.  There  were 
a  lot  of  whites  who  intended  to  stay  out  on  their  ranches, 
as  they  had  perfect  confidence  in  the  Indians.  The  re- 
sult of  the  war  was  that  the  Indians  got  all  that  they 
contended  for.  The  good  bottom  lands  had  been  taken 
away  from  the  Indians  and  they  had  been  given  the 
woods.  This  was  done  to  open  up  the  bottom  lands  for 
settlement.  Notwithstanding  this,  many  of  the  Indians 
were  not  hostile  enough  to  go  to  war.  The  Indians  east 
of  the  mountains  initiated  the  war  when  they  came  over 
here  and  insisted  that  these  Indians  drive  out  the  whites. 
In  the  meantime  the  Indians  were  given  their  lands  back 
again.  The  Indians  killed  as  many  whites  as  the  whites 
killed  Indians.  They  had  been  living  at  peace  with  the 
whites  and  would  have  continued  to  do  so  had  it  not  been 
for  the  Indians  east  of  the  mountains.  I  think  that  a 
mean  advantage  of  the  Indians  was  taken  at  that  treaty." 

"I  think  there  were  as  many  whites  killed  this  side  of 
the  mountains  as  Indians,"  said  Mr.  Dougherty,  resum- 
ing; "and  there  would  have  been  no  war  had  the  Indians 
been  properly  treated.  I  remember  Leschi  and  his  band 
passed  down  through  the  prairie  near  by  father's  house, 
but  did  not  stop  to  disturb  us,  but  moved  on  to  Muckle- 
shoot  and  Green  River." 

"Yes,  I  remember  considerable  about  the  early  condi- 
tion of  the  Indian  and  their  supply  of  food,  for  many 
and  many  is  the  time  that  I  have  enjoyed  their  hospital- 
ity and  partaken  of  the  various  forms  of  what  may  be 
termed  their  land  food  as  distinguished  from  fish.  This 
was   varied    and   abundant.      I   have   seen   trainloads    of 


252        VENTURES   AND   ADVENTURES    OF    EZRA   MEEKER 

dried  canias  and  sunflower  roots  carried  by  their  ponies, 
and  sometimes  by  the  squaws  on  their  backs.  The  In- 
dians called  the  sunflower  roots  'kalse.'  It  has  now  be- 
come almost  extinct,  except  in  small  fields  where  it  is 
protected.  Kalse  is  a  small  root,  about  the  size  of  an 
ordinary  carrot,  and  has  a  yellow  flower  resembling  the 
sunflower.  The  Indians  would  dig  it  with  a  crooked 
staff  of  ironwood  stick,  by  twisting  the  stick  around  the 
roots  and  using  it  as  a  lever  to  pull  up  the  roots.  After 
getting  a  sufficient  quantity  of  this  sunflower  root  to- 
gether the  tops  of  the  roots  would  be  nipped  off,  then  the 
bark  would  be  beaten  off  and  a  baking  place  arranged 
in  a  hollow  in  the  ground,  with  sallal  berry  twigs,  leaves 
and  hemlock  boughs.  The  roots  would  be  piled  up  round- 
ing, and  covered  over  with  the  sallal  and  other  material, 
and  the  whole  covered  with  earth.  A  fire  would  be  made 
over  the  ground  and  the  roasting  would  occupy  three  or 
four  days,  depending  upon  the  size  of  the  pile.  After  the 
end  of  three  or  four  days  the  remaining  coals  and  hot 
ashes  would  be  removed  from  the  top  of  the  pile,  and 
there  would  be  exposed  the  steaming  sunflower  roots. 
The  roots  are  very  delicious  in  taste,  though  I  cannot 
compare  it  to  anything  now  in  use.  They  also  made  a 
liquor  from  its  roots  by  soaking,  which  was  very  exhil- 
arating and  strengthening.  I  have  often  partaken  of 
this  food  when  a  child.  There  was  another  food  gather- 
ed from  the  prairie,  which  the  Indians  en  lied  'lacamas' 
or  'camas.'  It  is  a  small  root,  about  the  size  of  the  end 
of  your  thumb,  and  has  a  stalk  that  shows  itself  early  in 
the  spring.  It  comes  up  as  two  leaves  folded  together, 
and  as  it  progresses  in  growth  it  spreads.  From  this  ap- 
pears a  stem  on  the  top  of  which  is  a  blue  flower.     It  is 


AN   OLD  SETTLERS'   MEETING  253 

very  nutritious.  It  was  generally  prepared  in  large 
quantities  and  could  be  kept  until  the  following  year.  1 
have  always  thought  that  it  would  be  a  great  addition  to 
our  garden  products,  and  would  be  beneficial  to  us  as  a 
health  diet  generally.  The  Indians  who  used  it  were 
generally  very  healthy.  There  is  another  article  of  food 
that  I  know  the  Indian  name  for.  but  not  the  white 
man's.  The  Indian  name  is  'squelebs.'  It  grows  in  low, 
marshy  places  and  in  creeks  that  run  cold,  cle  it  water. 
It  has  the  appearance  of  the  wild  parsnip,  and  probably 
is  a  species  of  it.  It  grows  in  joints.  It  is  very  delicious 
to  the  taste  in  its  season  and  is  eaten  raw.  It  is  the  finest 
nervine  that  I  ever  used.  Then  comes  'kinnikinneck' 
berries,  or  the  Indian  tobacco.  The  Indians  will  take 
'kinnikinnick'  leaves,  roast  them  until  brown,  and  then 
mix  half  and  half  with  tobacco,  when  it  makes  very  fine 
smoking,  and  the  odor  is  fragrant  and  very  acceptable. 
It  has  an  influence  over  the  smoker  like  opium  or  ether. 
Some  Indians  that  I  have  seen  using  it  would  keel  over 
in  a  trance.  It  is  very  highly  prized  by  them.  The  ber- 
ries that  grow  and  ripen  on  the  'kinnikinnick'  when  ripe 
are  used  as  food  by  the  Indians  by  mixing  them  with 
dried  salmon  eggs,  and  have  the  property  of  strengthen- 
ing to  an  abnormal  degree.  They  also  used  the  young 
sprouts  of  the  wild  raspberry  and  salmon  berry,  which 
were  very  useful  in  cooling  the  system  and  very  accept- 
able to  the  palate.  There  was  another  food  product  that 
the  Indians  called  "charlaque."  It  throws  out  a  broad, 
dark  green  leaf  on  one  side  of  the  stem,  and  on  the  end 
of  the  stem  there  is  a  bell-shaped  flower  of  a  brownish 
cast  on  the  outside,  and  on  the  inside  the  color  is  orange, 
mottled  with  brown  specks.    It  produces  a  flat  root  about 


254        VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

the  size  of  an  ordinary  walnut  and  is  good  either  raw  or 
roasted.  It  grows  in  shady  places  and  near  oak  bushes. 
The  root  is  white.  There  is  also  a  species  of  the  dande- 
lion which  has  a  very  delicate-tasting  root,  which  was 
eaten  either  raw  or  roasted.  It  is  something  similar  to 
the  wild  parsnip,  and  the  root  is  also  white.  When  the 
root  is  broken  it  exudes  a  milk  which  is  an  excellent 
cure  for  warts.  Another  food  plant  was  the  'wapato.' 
It  grows  in  swampy  places  and  sends  its  roots  into  the 
water.  It  grows  luxuriantly  in  such  places,  and  the 
tubers  of  the  'wapata'  were  highly  prized  by  the  Indians 
and  could  be  eaten  either  raw  or  cooked.  It  had  a  deli- 
cate and  pungent  taste  that  was  very  acceptable  to  the 
palate.  By  this  you  will  see  that  the  Indians  had  a  vari- 
ety of  food,  when  one  takes  into  consideration  the  wild 
fruits,  fish  and  game  in  which  the  country  abounded." 

Peter  Smith  said:  "We  were  crossing  the  plains  in 
1852  when  Spotted  Tail  with  about  thirty  warriors,  fresh 
from  the  Crow  war,  rode  up  to  our  camp  early  one 
morning.  I  was  cooking  breakfast  for  our  party,  and  I 
tell  you  I  was  pretty  well  scared,  but  I  thought  to  offer 
them  something  to  eat  and  after  several  attempts,  made 
them  understand  what  I  wanted,  and  finally  gave  them 
all  a  breakfast  of  bread  and  sugar  and  coffee.  When 
they  first  came  they  sat  on  their  horses  with  feathers  in 
their  hair,  and  said  nothing  to  me  and  nothing  to  each 
other,  and  I  really  thought  my  time  had  come.  After 
they  had  eaten  their  breakfast  they  went  on  up  the 
Platte  River  toward  Fort  Laramie.  After  we  had  trav- 
eled about  three  hundred  miles  we  camped  in  the  vicinity 
of  a  large  Indian  force  under  the  control  of  Spotted 
Tail.     I  was   with   a   group   of  men   that  had   gathered 


AN  OLD  SETTLERS'    MEETING  255 

when  I  felt  a  tug  at  my  coat  tail.  1  looked  around 
quickly  but  saw  no  one,  so  I  went  on  speaking  to  the 
man  that  I  had  been  talking  to.  Pretty  soon  I  felt  an- 
other tug,  and  looking  around  saw  an  Indian,  whom  I 
recognized  as  the  leader  of  the  band  that  had  eaten 
breakfast  at  our  camp  a  few  days  before.  The  Indian 
told  me  that  his  name  was  Spotted  Tail,  and  that  he 
wanted  me  to  come  to  his  camp  a  few  miles  away.  I 
told  him  I  would  go.  Although  the  others  in  our  party 
tried  to  dissuade  me  from  the  undertaking,  I  went.  The 
chief  treated  me  with  great  kindness  and  hospitality. 
He  was  a  tall,  athletic  Indian,  and  his  daughters  were 
very  pretty,  having  regular  features  and  black  hair.  I 
returned  to  the  train  well  pleased  with  my  visit.  Forty 
years  after,  while  at  the  World's  Fair,  I  met  a  young 
man  who  had  some  office  at  Fort  Laramie,  which  post 
Spotted  Tail  often  visited.  He  told  me  that  Spotted 
Tail  often  inquired  about  me,  said  that  he  had  never 
been  so  well  treated  by  a  white  man  in  his  life,  and  ex- 
pressed a  desire  to  have  me  come  and  see  him.  I  was 
very  sorry  that  I  never  went  through  the  reservation 
where  Spotted  Tail  lived  to  stop  off  and  see  him." 

"The  Indians  have  massacred  all  the  white  settlers 
on  White  River  and  are  coming  down  on  us  here  in  Puy- 
allup,"  was  passed  from  house  to  house  on  that  fateful 
October  day  of  1855.  Mrs.  Woolery  and  Mrs.  Boatman 
were  the  only  survivors  present  at  the  reunion  who  wit- 
nessed the  scenes  that  followed.  Some  had  wagons ; 
some  had  none.  Strive  as  best  they  could,  they  only  got 
across  the  river  the  first  day.  Two  canoes  were  lashed 
together  and  the  wagons  ferried  across,  after  being  first 
taken  apart.     The  trip  out  the  next  day  was  made  on 


256        VENTURES   AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA   MEEKER 

foot,  the  women  carrying  the  young  children  on  their 
backs.  Then  came  the  volunteer  company  a  week  later 
to  rescue  the  provisions,  stock,  clothing  and  other  prop- 
erty that  had  been  abandoned.  This  party  consisted  of 
the  settlers  of  the  valley,  with  a  few  others— nineteen  in 
all.  The  author  was  one  of  the  "others,"  not  having  yet 
settled  in  the  valley.  As  we  went  in  by  the  "lower"  road 
the  column  of  United  States  troops  and  volunteers  aban- 
doned the  field  and  withdrew  by  the  "upper"  road,  leav- 
ing our  little  band  in  utter  ignorance  of  our  danger  for 
four  days,  when  we  crossed  the  trail  of  the  retreating 
column,  which  we  afterwards  learned  had  halted  at 
Montgomery's,  at  the  edge  of  the  prairie.  Our  women 
folks  were  disturbed  at  our  long  stay,  and  the  troops 
were  under  orders  to  advance  to  our  rescue,  when  lo ! 
and  behold!  at  nightfall  on  the  sixth  day  we  returned, 
loaded  with  property  and  provisions,  in  most  cases  being 
all  the  possessions  of  the  owners  who  formed  a  part  of 
the  company,  and  there  was  great  joy  in  camp.  Not  an 
Indian  had  been  seen  nor  a  shot  fired,  except  to  empty 
our  guns  to  make  sure  that  they  would  "go,"  as  some  of 
the  men  quaintly  expressed  it. 

After  looking  back  over  the  vista  of  years,  none  of 
the  party  could  say  that  life  had  been  a  failure ;  there  was 
the  lady  bordering  close  on  eighty  years;  the  gentleman 
eighty-four  and  past  (Peter  Smith),  with  the  "kids"  of 
the  party  past  the  sixty-eighth  mark,  yet  one  would 
scarcely  ever  meet  a  more  cheerful  and  merry  party  than 
this  of  the  reunion  of  the  old  settlers  of  1855.* 


*Since  this  meeting  in  June,  1904,  five  of  the  ten  pioneers  that 
comprised  the  party  have  died,  prior  to  the  writing  of  this  note,  No- 
vember, 1908. 


A   CHAPTER    OX    NAMES  257 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 

A   CHAPTER   ON   NAMES. 

Iii  the  latter  part  of  the  seventeenth  century  that  in- 
trepid English  traveler.  Jonathan  Carver,  wrote  these  im- 
mortal words: 

"From  the  intelligence  I  gained  from  the  Xaudo- 
wessie  Indians,  among  whom  I  arrived  on  the  7th  of  De- 
cember (1776),  and  whose  language  I  perfectly  acquired 
during  a  residence  of  five  months,  and  also  from  the  ac- 
counts I  afterwards  obtained  from  the  Assinipoils,  who 
speak  the  same  tongue,  being  a  revolted  band  of  the  Naud- 
owessies;  and  from  the  Killistinoes,  neighbours  of  the 
Assinipoils,  who  speak  the  Chipeway  language  and  in- 
habit the  heads  of  the  River  Bourbon ;  I  say  from  these 
natives,  together  with  my  own  observations,  I  have  learn- 
ed that  the  four  most  capital  rivers  on  the  continent  of 
North  America,  viz. :  the  St.  Lawrence,  the  Mississippi, 
.  the  River  Bourbon  and  the  Oregon,  or  the  River  of  the 
West  (as  I  hinted  in  my  introduction),  have  their  sources 
in  the  same  neighborhood.  The  waters  of  the  three  for- 
mer are  within  thirty  miles  of  each  other;  the  latter, 
however,  is  further  west." 

All  students  of  history  acknowledge  this  is  the  first 
mention  of  the  word  Oregon  in  English  literature.  The 
narrative  quoted  was  inspired  by  his  observations  on 
the  upper  Mississippi,  and  particularly  upon  the  event 
of  reaching  his  farthest  point,  sixty  miles  above  the 
Falls  of  St.  Anthony,  November  17th,  1776.  This  was 
the  farthest  up  the  Mississippi  that  the  white  man  had 
ever  penetrated.  "So  that  we  are  obliged  solely  to  the 


268        VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES   OP  EZRA  MEEKER 

Indians  for  all  the  intelligence  we  are  able  to  give  rela- 
tive to  the  more  northern  parts,"  and  yet  this  man,  seem- 
ingly with  prophetic  sight,  discovered  the  great  river 
of  the  West,  attempted  to  name  it,  and  coined  a  word 
for  the  purpose.  While  Carver  missed  his  mark  and 
did  not  succeed  in  affixing  the  new-born  name  to  the  great 
river  he  saw  in  his  vision,  yet  the  word  became  immortal 
through  the  mighty  empire  for  which  it  afterwards  stood. 
Carver  made  no  explanation  as  to  where  the  word  Ore- 
gon came  from,  but  wrote  as  though  it  was  well  known 
like  the  other  rivers  mentioned.  Probably  for  all  time 
the  origin  of  this  name  will  be  a  mystery. 

We  have  a  like  curious  phenomenon  in  the  case  of 
Winthrop  first  writing  the  word  Tacoma,  in  September, 
1853.  None  of  the  old  settlers  had  heard  that  name, 
either  through  the  Indians  or  otherwise,  until  after  the 
publication  of  Winthrop 's  work  ten  years  later,  "The 
Canoe  and  The  Saddle,"  when  it  became  common  knowl- 
edge and  was  locally  applied  in  Olympia  as  early  as 
1866,  said  to  have  been  suggested  by  Edward  Giddings 
of  that  place. 

However,  as  Winthrop  distinctly  claimed  to  have  ob- 
tained the  word  from  the  Indians,  the  fact  was  accepted 
by  the  reading  public,  and  the  Indians  soon  took  their 
cue  from  their  white  neighbors. 

It  is  an  interesting  coincident  that  almost  within  a 
stone's  throw  of  where  Winthrop  coined  the  name  that 
Ave  find  it  applied  to  the  locality  that  has  grown  to  be 
the  great  city  of  Tacoma. 

On  the  26th  of  October,  1868,  John  W.  Ackerson  lo- 
cated a  mill  site  on  Commencement  Bay,  within  the  pres- 
ent limits  of  the  City  of  Tacoma,  and  applied  the  name 


A  CHAPTER  ON  NAMES  259 

to  his  mill.  He  said  he  had  gotten  it  from  Chief  Spot  of 
the  Puyallup  tribe,  who  claimed  it  was  the  Indian  name 
for  the  mountain,  Rainier. 

The  word  or  name  Seattle  was  unknown  when  the 
founders  of  this  city  first  began  to  canvass  the  question 
of  selecting  a  site  for  the  town,  and  some  time  elapsed 
before  a  name  was  coined  out  of  the  word  Se-alth. 

Se-alth,  or  Seattle,  as  he  was  afterwards  known,  was 
reported  to  be  the  chief  of  six  tribes  or  bands,  but  at 
best  his  control  was  like  most  all  the  chiefs  on  the  Sound, 
but  shadowy. 

Arthur  Denny  says  that  we  (meaning  himself,  Boren 
and  Bell),  canvassed  the  question  as  to  a  name  and 
agreed  to  call  the  place  Seattle,  after  the  old  chief  (Se- 
alth),  but  we  have  no  definite  information  as  to  when 
the  change  in  the  old  chief's  name  took  place.  Se-alth 
was  quite  disturbed  to  have  his  name  trifled  with  and 
appropriated  by  the  whites,  and  was  quite  willing  to  levy 
a  tribute  by  persuasion  upon  the  good  people  of  the  em- 
bryo city. 

I  have  another  historic  name  to  write  about,  Puy- 
allup, that  we  know  is  of  Indian  origin — as  old  as  the 
memory  of  the  white  man  runs.  But  such  a  name !  I 
consider  it  no  honor  to  the  man  who  named  the  town 
(now  city)  of  Puyallup.  I  accept  the  odium  attached  to 
inflicting  that  name  on  suffering  succeeding  generations 
by  first  platting  a  few  blocks  of  land  into  village  lots  and 
recording  them  under  the  name  Puyallup.  I  have  been 
ashamed  of  the  act  ever  since.  The  first  time  I  went 
East  after  the  town  was  named  and  said  to  a  friend  in 
New  York  that  our  town  was  named  Puyallup  he  seemed 
startled. 


260        VENTURES   AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

"Named  what?" 

"Puyallup,"  I  said,  emphasizing  the  word. 

"That's  a  jaw  breaker,"  came  the  response.  "How 
do  you  spell  it?" 

"P-u-y-a-1-l-u-p,"  I  said. 

"Let  me  see — how  did  you  say  you  pronounced  it?" 

Pouting  out  my  lips  like  a  veritable  Siwash,  and  em- 
phasizing every  letter  and  syllable  so  as  to  bring  out  the 
Peuw  for  Puy,  and  the  strong  emphasis  on  the  al.  and 
cracking  my  lips  together  to  cut  off  the  lup,  I  finally 
drilled  my  friend  so  he  could  pronounce  the  word,  yet 
fell  short  of  the  elegance  of  the  scientific  pronunciation. 

Then  when  I  crossed  the  Atlantic  and  across  the  old 
London  bridge  to  the  Borough,  and  there  encountered 
the  factors  of  the  hop  trade  on  that  historic  ground,  the 
haunts  of  Dickens  in  his  day;  and  when  we  were  bid  to 
be  seated  to  partake  of  the  viands  of  an  elegant  dinner; 
and  when  I  saw  the  troubled  look  of  my  friend,  whose 
lot  it  was  to  introduce  me  to  the  assembled  hop  mer- 
chants, and  knew  what  was  weighing  on  his  mind,  my 
sympathy  went  out  to  him  but  remained  helpless  to  aid 
him. 

"I  say — I  say — let  me  introduce  to  you  my  American 
friend — my  American  friend  from — my  American  friend 
from — from — from — ' ' 

And  when,  with  an  imploring  look  he  visibly  appealed 
to  me  for  help,  and  finally  blurted  out: 

"T  say,  Meeker,  I  cawn't  remember  that  blarsted 
name — what  is  it?" 

And  when  the  explosion  of  mirth  came  with : 

"All  the  same,  he's  a  jollv  good  fellow — a  jolly  good 
fellow." 


A   CHAPTER   ON    NAMES  ^61 

I  say.  when  all  this  had  happened,  and  much  more  be- 
sides, I  could  yet  feel  resigned  to  my  fate. 

Then  when  at  Dawson  I  could  hear  the  shrill  whistle 
from  the  would-be  wag,  and  hear : 

"He's  all  the  way  from  Puy-al-lup,"  I  could  yet  re- 
main in  composure. 

'  Then  when,  at  night  at  the  theaters,  the  jesters  would 
say: 

"Whar  was  it,  stranger,  you  said  you  was  from?" 

"Puy-al-lup!" 

"Oh,  you  did?"  followed  by  roars  of  laughter  all 
over  the  house.  And  all  this  I  could  hear  with  seeming 
equanimity. 

But  when  letters  began  to  come  addressed  "Pew- 
lupe,"  "Polly-pup,"  "Pull-all-up,"  "Pewl-a-loop,"  and 
finally  "Pay-all-up,"  then  my  cup  of  sorrow  was  full  and 
I  was  ready  to  put  on  sackcloth  and  ashes. 

The  name  for  the  town,  however,  came  about  in  this 
way:  In  the  early  days  we  had  a  postoffice,  Franklin. 
Sometimes  it  was  on  one  side  of  the  river,  and  then  again 
on  the  other ;  sometimes  way  to  one  side  of  the  settlement 
and  then  again  to  the  other.  It  was  not  much  trouble 
those  days  to  move  a  postoffice.  One  could  almost  carry 
the  whole  outfit  in  one's  pocket. 

We  were  all  tired  of  the  name  Franklin,  for  there 
were  so  many  Franklins  that  our  mail  was  continually 
being  sent  astray.  We  agreed  there  never  would  be  but 
one  Puyallup :  and  in  that  we  were  unquestionably  right. 
for  surely  there  will  never  be  another. 

Nevertheless,  people  would  come  and  settle  with  us. 
Where  the  big  stumps  and  trees  stood  and  occupied  the 
ground,    we    now    have    brick    blocks    and    solid    streets. 


262        VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

Where  the  cabins  stood,  now  quite  pretentious  residences 
have  arisen.  The  old  log-cabin  school  house  has  given 
way  to  three  large  houses,  where  now  near  twelve  hundred 
scholars  are  in  attendance,  instead  of  but  eleven,  as  at 
first.  And  still  the  people  came  and  built  a  hundred 
houses  last  year,  each  contributing  their  mite  to  perpetu- 
ating the  name  Puyallup.  Puyallup  has  been  my  home 
for  forty  years,  and  it  is  but  natural  I  should  love  the 
place,  even  if  I  cannot  revere  the  name. 


PIONEER    RELIGIOUS    EXPERIENCES  265 

CHAPTER    XXX. 

PIONEER  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCES  AND  INCIDENTS. 

If  we  were  to  confine  the  word  religion  to  its  strict 
construction  as  to  meaning,  we  would  cut  off  the  pioneer 
actions  under  this  heading  to  a  great  extent;  but,  if  we 
will  think  of  the  definition  as  applied  to  morality,  the 
duties  of  man  to  man,  to  character  building — then  the 
field  is  rich.  Many  of  the  pioneers,  necessarily  cut  loose 
from  church  organizations,  were  not  eager  to  enter 
again  into  their  old  affiliations,  though  their  conduct 
showed  a  truly  religious  spirit.  There  were  many  who 
were  outside  the  fold  before  they  left  their  homes,  and 
such,  as  a  class,  remained  as  they  were ;  but  many  showed 
a  sincere  purpose  to  do  right  according  to  the  light  that 
was  in  them,  and  who  shall  say  that  if  the  spirit  that 
prompted  them  was  their  duty  to  man,  that  such 
were  not  as  truly  religious  as  if  the  higher  spiritual  mo- 
tives moved  them? 

"We  had,  though,  many  earnest  workers,  whose  zeal 
never  abated,  who  felt  it  a  duty  to  save  souls,  and  who 
preached  to  others  incessantly,  in  season  and  out  of 
season,  and  whose  work,  be  it  said,  exercised  a  good 
influence  over  the  minds  of  the  people. 

One  instance  I  have  in  mind — Father  Weston,  who* 
came  at  irregular  intervals  to  Puyallup,  whose  energy 
would  make  amends  for  his  lack  of  eloquence,  and  whose 
example  would  add  weight  to  his  precepts.  He  was  a 
good  man.  Almost  everyone  would  go  to  hear  him, 
although  it  was  in  everybody's  mouth  that  he  could  not 
preach.     He  would  make  up  in  noise  and  fervency  what 


264        VENTURES   AND   ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA   MEEKER 

he  lacked  in  logic  and  eloquence.  Positively,  one  could 
often  hear  him  across  a  ten-acre  lot  when  he  would 
preach  in  a  grove,  and  would  pound  his  improvised  pul- 
pit with  as  much  vigor  as  he  would  his  weld  on  his  anvil 
week  days. 

One  time  the  old  man  came  to  the  valley,  made  his 
headquarters  near  where  the  town  of  Sumner  now  is, 
induced  other  ministers  to  join  him,  and  entered  on  a 
crusade,  a  protracted  union  meeting,  with  the  old-time 
mourners'  bench,  amen  corner  and  shouting  members. 
When  the  second  Sunday  came  the  crowd  was  so  great 
that  the  windows  were  taken  out  of  the  little  school 
house,  and  more  than  half  the  people  sat  or  reclined  on 
the  ground,  or  wagons  drawn  near  by,  to  listen  to  the 
noisy  scene  inside  the  house. 

A  peculiar  couple,  whom  I  knew  well,  had  attended 
from  a  distance,  the  husband,  a  frail,  little  old  man,  in- 
tensely and  fervently  religious,  while  the  wife,  who  was 
a  specimen  of  strong  womanhood,  had  never  been  able 
to  see  her  way  clear  to  join  the  church.  Aunt  Ann  (she 
is  still  living),  either  from  excitement  or  to  please  the 
husband,  went  to  the  mourners'  bench  and  made  some 
profession  that  led  Uncle  John,  the  husband,  to  believe 
the  wife  had  at  last  got  religion.  Upon  their  return 
home  the  good  lady  soon  began  wavering,  despite  the 
urgent  appeals  from  the  husband,  and  finally  blurted 
out: 

"Well,  John,  I  don't  believe  there  is  such  a  place  as 
hell,  anyhow." 

This  was  too  much  for  the  husband,  who,  in  a  fit  of 
sheer  desperation,  said : 

"Well,  well.  Ann,  you  wait  and  you'll  see."    And  the 


PIONEER    RELIGIOUS    EXPERIENCES  265 

good  lady,  now  past  eighty-four,  is  Avaiting  yet,  but  the 
good  little  husband  has  long  since  gone  to  spy  out  the 
unknown  land. 

I  have  known  this  lady  now  for  fifty  years,  and  al- 
though she  has  never  made  a  profession  of  religion  or 
joined  a  church,  yet  there  has  been  none  more  ready  to 
help  a  neighbor  or  to  minister  to  the  sick,  or  open  the 
door  of  genuine  hospitality  than  this  same  uncouth,  rough- 
spoken  pioneer  woman. 

I  recall  one  couple,  man  and  wife,  who  came  among 
us  of  the  true  and  faithful,  to  preach  and  practice  the 
Baptist  Christian  religion.  I  purposely  add  "Chris- 
tian," for  if  ever  in  these  later  years  two  people  em- 
bodied the  true  Christ-like  spirit,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wickser 
did — lived  their  religion  and  made  their  professions  mani- 
fest by  their  work. 

Mrs.  Wickser  was  a  very  tall  lady  of  ordinary  ap- 
pearance as  to  features,  while  the  husband  was  short  and 
actually  deformed.  The  disparity  in  their  heights  was 
so  great  that  as  they  stood  or  walked  side  by  side  he 
could  have  gone  beneath  her  outstretched  arm.  Added 
to  this  peculiar  appearance,  like  a  woman  and  a  boy  of 
ten  years  parading  as  man  and  wife,  the  features  of  the 
little  man  riveted  one's  attention.  With  a  low  fore- 
head, flattened  nose,  and  swarthy  complexion,  one  could 
not  determine  whether  he  was  white  or  part  red  and 
black,  Chinaman  or  what  not;  as  Dr.  Weed  said  to  me 
in  a  whisper  when  he  first  caught  sight  of  his  features : 
"What,  is  that  the  missing  link?"  In  truth,  the  Doctor 
was  so  surprised  that  he  was  only  half  in  jest,  not  at  the 
time  knowing  the  "creature,"  as  he  said,  was  the  Baptist 
minister  of  the  place. 


266        VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

But,  as  time  went  on,  the  strangeness  of  his  features 
wore  off,  and  the  beauty  of  his  character  began  to  shine 
more  and  more,  until  there  were  none  more  respected 
and  loved  than  this  couple,  by  those  who  had  come  to 
know  them. 

A  small  factory  had  been  established  not  far  from 
the  school  house,  where  we  had  our  Christmas  tree.  Some 
of  the  men  from  the  factory  took  it  into  their  heads  to 
play  what  they  called  a  joke  on  Mr.  and  Mrs.  "W.  by 
placing  on  the  tree  a  large  bundle  purporting  to  be  a 
present,  but  which  they  innocently  opened  and  found  to 
contain  a  direct  insult. 

The  little  man,  it  could  be  seen,  was  deeply  mortified, 
yet  made  no  sign  of  resentment,  although  it  soon  became 
known  who  the  parties  were,  but  treated  them  with  such 
forbearance  and  kindness  that  they  became  so  ashamed 
of  themselves  as  to  inspire  better  conduct,  and  so  that 
night  the  most  substantial  contribution  of  the  season 
was  quietly  deposited  at  the  good  missionary's  door,  and 
ever  after  that  all  alike  treated  them  with  the  greatest 
respect. 

I  have  known  this  couple  to  walk  through  storm  as 
well  as  sunshine,  on  roads  or  on  trails,  for  miles  around, 
visiting  the  pioneers  as  regularly  as  the  week  came, 
ministering  to  the  wants  of  the  sick,  if  perchance 
there  were  such,  cheering  the  discouraged  or  lending  a 
helping  hand  where  needed,  veritable  good  Samaritans 
as  they  were,  a  credit  to  our  race  by  the  exhibition  of 
the  spirit  within  them. 

Take  the  case  of  George  Bush,  the  negro,  who  re- 
fused to  sell  his  crop  to  speculators  for  cash,  yet  dis- 
tributed it  freely  to  the  immigrants  who  had  come  later, 


PIONEER    RELIGIOUS    EXPERIENCES  267 

without  money  and  without  price.  Also  Sidney  Ford, 
another  early  rugged  settler,  although  neither  of  them 
church  members.  "Who  will  dare  say  theirs  were  not  re- 
ligious acts? 

In  response  to  a  letter,  the  following  characteristic 
reply  from  one  of  the  McAuley  sisters  will  be  read  with 
interest,  as  showing  "the  other  sort"  of  pioneer  religious 
experience,  and  following  this,  the  brother's  response 
about  the  "mining  camp  brand."    She  writes: 

"And  now  as  to  your  question  in  a  former  letter,  in 
regard  to  religious  experiences  of  pioneers.  Tom  had 
written  me  just  before  your  letter  came,  asking  me  if  I 
had  heard  from  friend  Meeker  and  wife.  I  told  him  of 
your  letter  and  asked  him  if  he  ever  heard  of  such  a 
thing  as  religious  experience  among  pioneers.  I  enclose 
his  answer,  which  is  characteristic  of  him.  The  first 
church  service  I  attended  in  California  was  in  a  saloon, 
and  the  congregation,  comprising  nearly  all  the  inhabi- 
tants of  the  place,  was  attentive  and  orderly.  I  think 
the  religion  of  the  pioneers  was  carried  in  their  hearts, 
and  bore  its  fruit  in  honesty  and  charity  rather  than 
in  outward  forms  and  ceremonies.  I  remember  an  in- 
stance on  the  plains.  Your  brother,  0.  P.,  had  a  deck  of 
cards  in  his  vest  pocket.  Sister  Margaret  smiled  and 
said:  'Your  pocket  betrays  you.'  'Do  you  think  it  a 
betrayal?'  said  he.  'If  I  thought  it  was  wrong  I  would 
not  use  them.'    Here  is  Brother  Tom's  letter: 

"  'Why,  of  course,  I  have  seen  as  well  as  heard  oi 
pioneer  religious  experiences.  But  I  expect  the  Cali- 
fornia mining  camp  brand  differed  some  from  the  Wash- 
ington brand  for  agricultural  use,  because  the  mining 
camp  was  liable  to  lose  at  short  notice  all  its  inhabitants 


268        VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

on  discovery  of  new  diggings.' 

"So,  of  course,  large  church  buildings  for  exclusive 
church  purposes  were  out  of  the  question  as  impossible. 
And  the  only  public  buildings  available  were  the  saloons 
and  gambling  halls,  whose  doors,  like  the  gates  of  perdi- 
tion, were  always  open,  day  and  night  alike,  to  all,  saint 
or  sinner,  who  chose  to  enter,  and  having  entered,  had 
his  rights  as  well  as  his  duties  well  understood,  and,  if 
need  be,  promptly  enforced." 

John  McLeod  used  to  almost  invariably  get  gloriously 
drunk  whenever  he  came  to  Steilacoom,  which  was  quite 
often,  and  generally  would  take  a  gallon  keg  home  with 
him  full  of  the  vile  stuff.  And  yet  this  man  was  a  regu- 
lar reader  of  his  Bible,  and.  I  am  told  by  those  who 
knew  his  habits  best,  read  his  chapter  as  regularly  as 
he  drank  his  gill  of  whisky,  or  perhaps  more  regularly, 
as  the  keg  would  at  times  become  dry,  while  his  Bible 
never  failed  him.  I  have  his  old,  well-thumbed  Gaelic 
Bible,  with  its  title  page  of  1828,  which  he  brought  with 
him  to  this  country  in  1833,  and  used  until  his  failing- 
sight  compelled  the  use  of  another  of  coarser  print. 

I  am  loth  to  close  this  (to  me)  interesting  chapter, 
but  my  volume  is  full  and  overflowing  and  I  am  admon- 
ished not  to  pursue  the  subject  further.  A  full  volume 
might  be  written  and  yet  not  exhaust  this  interesting 
subject. 


WILD   ANIMALS  269 

CHAPTER    XXXI. 

WILD   ANIMALS. 

I  will  write  this  chapter  for  the  youngsters,  and  the 
elderly  wise-heads  who  wear  specs  may  turn  over  the 
leaves  without  reading  it,  if  they  choose. 

Wild  animals  in  early  days  were  very  much  more 
plentiful  than  now,  particularly  deer  and  black  bear. 
The  black  bear  troubled  us  a  good  deal  and  would  come 
near  Ihe  houses  and  kill  our  pigs;  but  it  did  not  take 
many  years  to  thin  them  out.  They  were  very  cowardly 
and  would  run  away  from  us  in  the  thick  brush,  except 
when  the  young  cubs  were  with  them,  and  then  we  had 
to  be  more  careful. 

There  was  one  animal,  the  cougar,  we  felt  might  be 
dangerous,  but  I  never  saw  but  one  in  the  woods.  Be- 
fore I  tell  you  about  it  I  will  relate  an  adventure  one  of 
my  own  little  girls  had  with  one  of  these  creatures  near 
by  our  own  home  in  the  Puyallup  valley. 

I  have  written  elsewhere  about  our  little  log  cabin 
school  house,  but  have  not  told  how  our  children  got  to 
it.  From  our  house  to  the  school  house  the  trail  led 
through  very  heavy  timber  and  very  heavy  underbrush — 
so  dense  that  most  all  the  way  one  could  not  see,  in  the 
summer  time  when  the  leaves  were  on,  as  far  as  across 
the  kitchen  of  the  house. 

One  day  little  Carrie,  now  an  elderly  lady  (I  won't 
say  how  old),  now  living  in  Seattle,  started  to  go  to 
school,  but  soon  came  running  back  out  of  breath. 

"Mamma  !  Mamma!  I  saw  a  great  big  cat  sharpen- 
ing his  claws  on  a  great  big  tree,  just  like  pussy  does," 


270        VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

she  said  as  soon  as  she  could  catch  her  breath.  Sure 
enough,  upon  examination,  there  were  the  marks  as 
high  up  on  the  tree  as  I  could  reach.  It  must  have  been 
a  big  one  to  reach  up  the  tree  that  far.  But  the  incident 
soon  dropped  out  of  mind  and  the  children  went  to 
school  on  the  trail  just  the  same  as  if  nothing  had  hap- 
pened. 

The  way  I  happened  to  see  the  cougar  was  this: 
Lew.  McMillan  bought  one  hundred  and  sixty-one  cattle 
and  drove  them  from  Oregon  to  what  we  then  used  to 
call  Upper  White  River,  but  it  was  the  present  site  of  Au- 
burn. He  had  to  swim  his  cattle  over  all  the  rivers,  and 
his  horses,  too,  and  then  at  the  last  day's  drive  brought 
them  on  the  divide  between  Stuck  River  and  the  Sound. 
The  cattle  were  all  very  tame  when  he  took  them  into 
the  White  River  valley,  for  they  were  tired  and  hungry. 
At  that  time  White  River  valley  was  covered  with  brush 
and  timber,  except  here  and  there  a  small  prairie.  The 
upper  part  of  the  valley  was  grown  up  with  tall,  coarse 
rushes  that  remained  green  all  winter,  and  so  he  didn't 
have  to  feed  his  cattle,  but  they  got  nice  and  fat  long 
before  spring.  We  bought  them  and  agreed  to  take 
twenty  head  at  a  time.  By  this  time  the  cattle  were 
nearly  as  wild  as  deer.  So  Lew.  built  a  very  strong 
corral  on  the  bank  of  the  river,  near  where  Auburn  is 
now,  and  then  made  a  brush  fence  from  one  corner  down 
river  way,  which  made  it  a  sort  of  lane,  with  the  fence 
on  one  side  and  the  river  on  the  other,  and  gradually 
widened  out  as  he  got  further  from  the  corral. 

I  used  to  go  over  from  Steilacoom  and  stay  all  night 
so  we  could  make  a  drive  into  the  corral  early,  but  this 
time  I  was  belated  and  had  to  camp  on  the  road,  so  that 


WILD  ANIMALS  271 

we  did  not  get  an  early  start  for  the  next  day's  drive. 
The  cattle  seemed  unruly  that  day,  and  when  we  let 
them  out  of  the  corral  up  river  way,  they  scattered  and 
we  could  do  nothing  with  them.  The  upshot  of  the 
matter  was  that  I  had  to  go  home  without  cattle.  We 
had  worked  with  the  cattle  so  long  that  it  was  very 
late  before  I  got  started  and  had  to  go  on  foot.  At  that 
time  the  valley  above  Auburn  near  the  Stuck  River 
crossing  was  filled  with  a  dense  forest  of  monster  fir  and 
cedar  trees,  and  a  good  deal  of  underbrush  beside.  That 
forest  was  so  dense  in  places  that  it  was  difficult  to  see 
the  road,  even  on  a  bright,  sunshiny  day,  while  on  a 
cloudy  day  it  seemed  almost  like  night,  though  I  could 
see  well  enough  to  keep  on  the  crooked  trail  all  right. 

Well,  just  before  I  got  to  Stuck  River  crossing  I  came 
to  a  turn  in  the  trail  where  it  crossed  the  top  of  a  big 
fir  which  had  been  turned  up  by  the  roots  and  had  fallen 
nearly  parallel  with  the  trail.  The  big  roots  held  the 
butt  of  the  tree  up  from  the  ground,  and  I  think  the  tree 
was  four  feet  in  diameter  a  hundred  feet  from  the  butt, 
and  the  whole  body,  from  root  to  top,  was  eighty-four 
steps  long,  or  about  two  hundred  and  fifty  feet.  I 
have  seen  longer  trees,  though,  and  bigger  ones,  but 
there  were  a  great  many  like  this  one  standing  all  around 
about  me. 

I  didn't  stop  to  step  it  then,  but  you  may  be  sure  I 
took  some  pretty  long  strides  about  that  time.  Just  as 
I  stepped  over  the  fallen  tree  near  the  top  I  saw  some- 
thing move  on  the  big  body  near  the  roots,  and  sure 
enough  the  thing  was  coming  right  toward  me.  In  an 
instant  I  realized  what  it  was.  It  was  a  tremendous, 
great  big  cougar.    He  was  very  pretty,  but  did  not  look 


272        VENTURES   AND   ADVENTURES   OF   EZRA    MEEKER 

very  nice  to  me.  I  had  just  received  a  letter  from  a  man 
living  near  the  Chehalis  telling  me  of  three  lank,  lean 
cougars  coming  into  his  clearing  where  he  was  at  work, 
and  when  he  started  to  go  to  his  cabin  to  get  his  gun  the 
brutes  started  to  follow  him,  and  he  just  only  escaped 
into  his  house,  with  barely  time  to  slam  the  door  shut. 
lie  wrote  that  his  dogs  had  gotten  them  on  the  nm  by 
the  time  he  was  ready  with  his  gun,  and  he  finally  killed 
all  three  of  them.  He  found  they  were  literally  starv- 
ing and  had,  he  thought,  recently  robbed  an  Indian 
grave,  or  rather  an  Indian  canoe  that  hung  in  the  trees 
with  their  dead  in  it.  That  is  the  way  the  Indians  used  to 
dispose  of  their  dead,  but  I  haven't  time  to  tell  about 
that  now.  This  man  found  bits  of  cloth,  some  hair,  and 
a  piece  of  bone  in  the  stomach  of  one  of  them,  so  he  felt 
sure  he  was  right  in  his  surmise,  and  I  think  he  was,  too. 
I  sent  this  man's  letter  to  the  paper,  the  Olympia  Tran- 
script, and  it  was  printed  at  the  time,  but  I  have  forgotten 
his  name. 

Well,  I  didn't  know  what  to  do.  I  had  no  gun  with 
me,  and  I  knew  perfectly  well  there  was  no  use  to  run. 
I  knew,  too,  that  I  could  not  do  as  Mr.*  Stocking  did, 
grapple  with  it  and  kick  it  to  death.  This  one  confront- 
ing me  was  a  monstrous  big  one — at  least  it  looked  so  to 
me.  I  expect  it  looked  bigger  than  it  really  was.  Was 
I  scared,  did  you  say?  Did  you  ever  have  creepers  run 
up  your  back  and  right  to  the  roots  of  your  hair,  and 
nearly  to  the  top  of  your  head?  Yes,  I'll  warrant  you 
have,  though  a  good  many  fellows  won't  acknowledge  it 
and  say  it's  only  cowards  that  feel  that  way.  Maybe; 
but.  anyway,  I  don't  want  to  meet  wild  cougars  in  the 
timber. 


WILD   ANIMALS  273 

Mr.  Stocking,  whom  I  spoke  about,  lived  about  ten 
miles  from  Olympia  at  Glasgow's  place.  He  was  walk- 
ing on  the  prairie  and  had  a  stout  young  dog  with  him, 
and  came  suddenly  upon  a  cougar  lying  in  a  corner  of 
the  fence.  His  dog  tackled  the  brute  at  once,  but  Avas  no 
match  for  him,  and  would  soon  have  been  killed  if  Stock- 
ing had  not  interfered.  Mr.  Stocking  gathered  on  to  a 
big  club  and  struck  the  cougar  one  heavy  blow  over  the 
back,  but  the  stick  broke  and  the  cougar  left  the  dog  and 
attacked  his  master.  And  so  it  was  a  life  and  death 
struggle.  Mr.  Stocking  was  a  very  powerful  man.  It 
was  said  that  he  was  double-jointed.  He  was  full  six 
feet  high  and  heavy  in  proportion.  He  was  a  typical 
pioneer  in  health,  strength  and  power  of  endurance.  He 
said  he  felt  as  though  his  time  had  come,  but  there  was 
one  chance  in  a  thousand  and  he  was  going  to  take  that 
chance.  As  soon  as  the  cougar  let  go  of  the  dog  to  tackle 
Stocking,  the  cur  sneaked  off  to  let  his  master  fight  it 
out  alone.  He  had  had  enough  fight  for  one  day.  As 
the  cougar  raised  on  his  hind  legs  Stocking  luckily 
grasped  him  by  the  throat  and  began  kicking  him  in  the 
stomach.  Stocking  said  he  thought  if  he  could  get  one 
good  kick  in  the  region  of  the  heart  he  felt  that  he 
might  settle  him.  I  guess,  boys,  no  football  player  ever 
kicked  as  hard  as  Stocking  did  that  day.  The  difference 
was  that  he  was  literally  kicking  for  dear  life,  while  the 
player  kicks  only  for  fun.  All  this  happened  in  less  time 
than  it  takes  me  to  tell  it.  Meanwhile  the  cougar  was 
not  idle,  but  was  clawing  away  at  Stocking's  arms  and 
shoulders,  and  once  he  hit  him  a  clip  on  the  nose.  The 
dog  finally  returned  to  the  strife  and  between  the  two 
they  laid  Mr.  Cougar  low  and  took  off  his  skin  the  next 


274        VENTURES    AND   ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

day.  Mr.  Stocking  took  it  to  Olympia,  where  it  was 
used  for  a  base  purpose.  It  was  stuffed  and  put  into  a 
saloon  and  kept  there  a  long  time  to  attract  people  into 
the  saloon. 

Did  my  cougar  hurt  me,  did  you  say?  I  hadn't  any 
cougar  and  hadn't  lost  one,  and  if  I  had  been  hurt  I 
wouldn't  have  been  here  to  tell  you  this  story.  The  fun 
of  it  was  that  the  cougar  hadn't  seen  me  yet,  but  just  as 
soon  as  he  did  he  scampered  off  like  the  Old  Harry  him- 
self was  after  him,  and  I  strode  off  down  the  trail  as  if 
old  Beelzebub  was  after  me. 

Now,  youngsters,  before  you  go  to  bed,  just  bear  in 
mind  there  is  no  danger  here  now  from  wild  animals, 
and  there  was  not  much  then,  for  in  all  the  time  I  have 
been  here,  now  over  fifty  years,  I  have  known  of  but  two 
persons  killed  by  them. 

And  now  I  will  tell  you  one  more  true  story  and  then 
quit  for  this  time.  Aunt  Abbie  Sumner  one  evening 
heard  Gus  Johnson  hallooing  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  a 
little  way  out  from  the  house.  Her  father  said  Gus  was 
just  driving  up  the  cows,  but  Aunt  Abbie  said  she  never 
knew  him  to  make  such  a  noise  as  that  before,  and  went 
out  within  speaking  distance  and  where  she  could  see 
him  at  times  pounding  vigorously  on  a  tree  for  awhile 
and  then  turn  and  strike  out  toward  the  brush  and  yell 
so  loud  she  said  she  believed  he  could  be  heard  for  more 
than  a  mile  away.  She  soon  saw  something  moving  in 
the  brush.  It  was  a  bear.  Gus  had  suddenly  come  upon 
a  bear  and  her  cubs  and  run  one  of  the  cubs  up  a  tree. 
He  pounded  on  the  tree  to  keep  it  there,  but  had  to  turn 
at  times  to  fight  the  bear  away  from  him.  As  soon  as  he 
could  find  time  to  speak  he  told  her  to  go  to  the  house 


WILD   ANIMALS  2  75 

and  bring  the  gun,  which  she  did,  and  that  woman  went 
right  up  to  the  tree  and  handed  Gus  the  gun  while  the 
bear  was  near  by.  Gus  made  a  bad  shot  the  first  time 
and  wounded  the  bear,  but  the  next  time  killed  her.  But 
lo  and  behold!  he  hadn't  any  more  bullets  and  the  cub 
was  still  up  the  tree.  So  away  went  Aunt  Abbie  two 
miles  to  a  neighbor  to  get  lead  to  mold  some  bullets. 
But  by  this  time  it  was  dark,  and  Gus  stayed  all  night  at 
the  butt  of  the  tree  and  kept  a  fire  burning,  and  next 
morning  killed  the  cub.  So  he  got  the  hides  of  both  of 
them.  This  occurred  about  three  miles  east  of  Bucoda, 
and  both  of  the  parties  are  living  in  sight  of  the  spot 
where  the  adventure  took  place. 


276         VENTURES   AND   ADVENTURES    OF   EZRA   MEEKER 

CHAPTER    XXXI 1. 

THE    MORNING   SCHOOL. 

And  now  I  will  write  another  chapter  for  the  young- 
sters, the  boys  and  girls,  and  the  old  folks  may  skip  it  if 
they  wish;  but  I  am  going  to  relate  true  stories. 

Soon  after  the  Indian  war  we  moved  to  our  donation 
claim.  We  had  but  three  neighbors,  the  nearest  nearly 
two  miles  away,  and  two  of  them  kept  bachelor's  hall 
and  were  of  no  account  for  schools.  Of  course,  we  could 
not  see  any  of  our  neighbor's  houses,  and  could  reach 
but  one  by  a  road  and  the  others  by  a  trail.  Under  such 
conditions  we  could  not  have  a  public  school.  I  can  best 
tell  about  our  morning  school  by  relating  an  incident 
that  happened  a  few  months  after  it  was  started. 

One  day  one  of  our  farther-off  neighbors,  who  lived 
over  four  miles  away,  came  to  visit  us.  Naturally,  the 
children  flocked  around  him  to  hear  his  stories  in  Scotch 
brogue,  and  began  to  ply  questions,  to  which  he  soon  re- 
sponded by  asking  other  questions,  one  of  which  was 
when  they  expected  to  go  to  school. 

"Why,  we  have  school  now,"  responded  a  chorus  of 
voices.     "We  have  school  every  day." 

"And,  pray,  who  is  your  teacher,  and  where  is  your 
school  house?"  came  the  prompt  inquiry. 

"Father  teaches  us  at  home  every  morning  before 
breakfast.  He  hears  the  lessons  then,  but  mother  helps 
us,  too." 

Peter  Smith,  the  neighbor  (and  one  of  the  group  in 
the  old  settlers'  meeting),  never  tires  telling  the  story, 


THE  MORNING  SCHOOL  277 

and  maybe  has  added  a  little  as  memory  fails,  for  he  is 
eighty-four  years  old  now*. 

"Your  father  told  me  awhile  ago  that  you  had  your 
breakfast  at  six  o'clock.    What  time  do  you  get  up?" 

"Why,  father  sets  the  clock  for  half-past  four,  and 
that  gives  us  an  hour  while  mother  gets  breakfast,  you 
know. ' ' 

You  boys  and  girls  who  read  this  chapter  may  have 
a  feeling  almost  akin  to  pity  for  those  poor  pioneer  chil- 
dren who  had  to  get  up  so  early,  but  you  may  as  well 
dismiss  such  thoughts  from  your  minds,  for  they  were 
happy  and  cheerful  and  healthy,  worked  some  during  the 
day,  besides  studying  their  lessons,  but  they  went  to  bed 
earlier  than  some  boys  and  girls  do  these  days. 

It  was  not  long  until  we  moved  to  the  Puyallup 
yalley,  where  there  were  more  neighbors — two  families 
to  the  square  mile,  but  not  one  of  them  in  sight,  because 
the  timber  and  underbrush  were  so  thick  we  could  scarce- 
ly see  two  rods  from  the  edge  of  our  clearing.  Now  we 
could  have  a  real  school ;  but  first  I  will  tell  about  the 
school  house. 

Some  of  the  neighbors  took  their  axes  to  cut  the  logs, 
some  their  oxen  to  haul  them,  others  their  saws  and 
frows  to  make  the  clapboards  for  the  roof,  while  again 
others,  more  handy  with  tools,  made  the  benches  out 
of  split  logs,  or,  as  we  called  them,  puncheons.  With  a 
good  many  willing  hands,  the  house  soon  received  the 
finishing  touches.  The  side  walls  were  scarcely  high 
enough  for  the  door,  and  one  was  cut  in  the  end  and  a 


*Smith  has  just  died  as  this  work  is  going  through  the  presB. 
He  was  one  of  our  most  respected  pioneers,  possessed  of  sterling 
qualities  of  manhood.     Like  Father  Kincaid.  he  was  without  enemies. 


278        VENTURES   AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

door  hung  on  wooden  hinges  that  squeaked  a  good  deal 
when  the  door  was  opened  or  shut;  but  the  children  did 
not  mind  that.  The  roof  answered  well  for  the  ceiling 
overhead,  and  a  log  cut  ont  on  each  side  made  two  long, 
narrow  windows  for  light.  The  larger  children  sat  with 
their  faces  to  the  walls,  with  long  shelves  in  front  of 
them,  while  the  smaller  tots  sat  on  low  benches  near  the 
middle  of  the  room.  When  the  weather  would  permit 
the  teacher  left  the  door  open  to  admit  more  light,  but 
had  no  need  for  more  fresh  air  as  the  roof  was  quite 
open  and  the  cracks  between  the  logs  let  in  plenty. 

Sometimes  we  had  a  lady  teacher,  and  then  her  salary 
was  smaller,  as  she  boarded  around.  That  meant  some 
discomfort  part  of  the  time,  where  the  surrounding  were 
not  pleasant. 

Some  of  those  scholars  are  dead,  some  have  wandered 
to  parts  unknown,  while  those  that  are  left  are  nearly 
all  married  and  are  grandfathers  or  grandmothers,  but 
all  living  remember  the  old  log  school  house  with  affec- 
tion. This  is  a  true  picture,  as  I  recollect,  of  the  early 
school  days  in  the  Puyallup  valley,  when,  as  the  un- 
known poet  has  said : 

"And  children  did  a  half  day's  work 
Before  they  went  to  school." 

Not  quite  so  hard  as  that,  but  very  near  it,  as  we 
were  always  up  early  and  the  children  did  a  lot  of  work 
before  and  after  school  time. 

When  Carrie  was  afterwards  sent  to  Portland  to  the 
high  school  she  took  her  place  in  the  class  just  the  same 
as  if  she  had  been  taught  in  a  grand  brick  school  house. 
"Where  there  is  a  will  there  is  a  way." 

You  must  not  conclude  that  we  had  no  recreation  and 


THE   MORNING   SCHOOL  279 

that  we  were  a  sorrowful  set  devoid  of  enjoyment,  for 
there  never  was  a  happier  lot  of  people  than  these  same 
hard-working  pioneers  and  their  families.  I  will  now 
tell  you  something  about  their  home  life,  their  amuse- 
ments as  well  as  their  labor. 

Before  the  clearings  were  large  we  sometimes  got 
pinched  for  both  food  and  clothing,  though  I  will  not 
say  we  suffered  much  for  either,  though  I  know  of  some 
families  at  times  who  lived  on  potatoes  "straight." 
Usually  fish  could  be  had  in  abundance,  and  considerable 
game — some  bear  and  plenty  of  deer.  The  clothing  gave 
us  the  most  trouble,  as  but  little  money  came  to  us  for 
the  small  quantity  of  produce  we  had  to  spare.  I  re- 
member one  winter  we  were  at  our  wits'  end  for  shoes. 
We  just  could  not  get  money  to  buy  shoes  enough  to  go 
around,  but  managed  to  get  leather  to  make  each  mem- 
ber of  the  family  one  pair.  We  killed  a  pig  to  get  bristles 
for  the  wax-ends,  cut  the  pegs  from  a  green  alder 
log  and  seasoned  them  in  the  oven,  and  made  the  lasts 
out  of  the  same  timber.  Those  shoes  were  clumsy,  to 
be  sure,  but  they  kept  our  feet  dry  and  warm,  and  we 
felt  thankful  for  the  comforts  vouchsafed  to  us  and 
sorry  for  some  neighbors'  children,  who  had  to  go  bare- 
footed even  in  quite  cold  weather. 

Music  was  our  greatest  pleasure  and  we  never  tired 
of  it.  "Uncle  John,"  as  everyone  called  him,  the  old 
teacher,  never  tired  teaching  the  children  music,  and  so 
it  soon  came  about  they  could  read  their  music  as  readily 
as  they  could  their  school  books.  No  Christmas  ever 
went  by  without  a  Christmas  tree,  in  which  the  whole 
neighborhood  joined,  or  a  Fourth  of  July  passed  with- 
out a  celebration.     We  made  the  presents  for  the  tree  if 


280        VENTURES   AND   ADVENTURES   OF   EZRA    MKEKER 

we  could  not  buy  them,  and  supplied  the  musicians, 
reader  and  orator  for  the  celebration.  Everybody  had 
something  to  do  and  a  voice  in  saying  what  should  be 
done,  and  that  very  fact  made  all  happy. 

We  had  sixteen  miles  to  go  to  our  market  town, 
Steilacoom,  over  the  roughest  kind  of  a  road.  Nobody 
had  horse  teams  at  the  start,  and  so  we  had  to  go  with  ox 
teams.  We  could  not  make  the  trip  out  and  back  in  one 
day,  and  did  not  have  money  to  pay  hotel  bills,  and  so 
we  would  drive  out  part  of  the  way  and  camp  and  the 
next  morning  drive  into  town  very  early,  do  our  trad- 
ing, and,  if  possible,  reach  home  the  same  day.  If  not 
able  to  do  this,  we  camped  again  on  the  road;  but  if  the 
night  was  not  too  dark  would  reach  home  in  the  night. 
And  oh !  what  an  appetite  we  would  have,  and  how  cheery 
the  fire  would  be,  and  how  welcome  the  reception  in  the 
cabin  home. 

One  of  the  "youngsters,"  fifty  years  old  tomorrow, 
after  reading  "The  Morning  School,"  writes: 

"Yes,  father,  your  story  of  the  morning  school  is 
just  as  it  was.  I  can  see  in  my  mind's  eye  yet  us  chil- 
dren reciting  and  standing  up  in  a  row  to  spell,  and 
Auntie  and  mother  getting  breakfast,  and  can  remember 
the  little  bed  room;  of  rising  early  and  of  reading  'Uncle 
Tom's  Cabin'  as  a  dessert  to  the  work." 

Near  where  the  old  log  cabin  school  house  stood  our 
high  school  building  now  stands,  large  enough  to  accom- 
modate four  hundred  pupils.  In  the  district  where  we 
could  count  nineteen  children  of  school  age,  with  eleven 
in  attendance,  now  we  have  twelve  hundred  boys  and 
girls  of  school  age,  three  large  school  houses  and  seven- 
teen teachers. 


THE  MORNING  SCHOOL  281 

The  trees  and  stumps  are  all  gone  and  brick  build- 
ings and  other  good  houses  occupy  much  of  the  land,  and 
as  many  people  now  live  in  that  school  district  as  lived 
both  east  and  west  of  the  mountains  when  the  Territory 
was  created  in  March,  1853.  Instead  of  ox  teams,  and 
some  at  that  with  sleds,  the  people  have  buggies  and 
carriages,  or  they  can  travel  on  any  of  the  eighteen  pas- 
senger trains  that  pass  daily  through  Puyallup,  or  on 
street  cars  to  Tacoma,  and  also  on  some  of  the  twenty  to 
twenty-four  freight  trains,  some  of  which  are  a  third  of 
a  mile  long.  Such  are  some  of  the  changes  wrought  in 
fifty  years  since  pioneer  life  began  in  the  Puyallup  valley. 

Now,  just  try  your  hand  on  this  song  that  follows, 
one  that  our  dear  old  teacher  has  sung  so  often  for  us,  in 
company  with  one  of  those  scholars  of  the  old  log  cabin, 
Mrs.  Frances  Bean,  now  of  Tacoma,  who  has  kindly  sup- 
plied the  words  and  music : 

FIFTY   YEARS   AGO. 

How  wondrous  are  the  changes 

Since  fifty  years  ago, 
When  girls  wore  woolen  dresses 

And  boys  wore  pants  of  tow; 
And  shoes  were  made  of  cowhide 

And  socks  of  homespun  wool; 
And  children  did  a  half-day's  work 

Before  they  went  to  school. 

CHORUS. 
Some  fifty  years  ago; 
Some  fifty  years  ago; 

The  men  and  the  boys 

And  the  girls  and  the  toys; 
The  work  and  the  play, 
And  the  night  and  the  day, 

The  world  and  its  ways 

Are  all  turned  around 
Since  fifty  years  ago. 


282        VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

The  girls  took  music  lessons 

Upon  the  spinning  wheel, 
And  practiced  late,  and  early 

On  spindle  swift  and  reel. 
The  boy  would  ride  the  horse  to  mill, 

A  dozen  miles  or  so, 
And  hurry  off  before  'twas  day 

Some  fifty  years  ago. 

The  people  rode  to  meeting 

In  sleds  instead  of  sleighs, 
And  wagons  rode  as  easy 

As  buggies  nowadays; 
And  oxen  answered  well  for  teams, 

Though  now  they'd  be  too  slow; 
For  people  lived  not  half  so  fast 

Some  fifty  years  ago. 

Ah!   well  do  I  remember 

That  Wilson's  patent  stove, 
That  father  bought  and  paid  for 

In  cloth  our  girls  had  wove!  , 

And  how  the  people  wondered 

When  we  got  the  thing  to  go, 
And  said  'twould  burst  and  hill  us  all, 

Some  fifty  years  ago. 


THE   HOP  BUSINESS  283 

CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

I  come  now  to  a  period  of  my  life,  as  one  might  say, 
on  the  border  land  between  pioneer  days  of  the  Old 
Oregon  country  and  of  the  later  development  of  the 
younger  territory  and  this  giant  state  bearing  the  great 
name  of  the  Father  of  our  country. 

An  account  of  these  ventures  follow  in  the  order  of 
their  occurrence. 

MT   HOP   VENTURE. 

The  public,  generally,  give  me  the  credit  of  intro- 
ducing hop  culture  into  the  Northwest. 

As  this  business  created  such  a  stir  in  the  world's 
market,  and  made  the  Puyallup  valley  famous,  and  as  my 
name  has  become  so  prominently  connected  with  hop 
culture,  I  can  hardly  pass  this  episode  of  my  life  by 
without  notice.  As  I  say  elsewhere,  this  should  not 
properly  be  called  a  venture,  although  the  violent  fluctu- 
ations of  prices  made  it  hazardous.  But  I  can  truly  say, 
that  for  twenty-two  years  successive  crops,  I  did  not 
raise  a  single  crop  upon  which  I  lost  money,  and  that  for 
that  many  years  I  added  each  year  some  acreage  to  my 
holdings.  But  few  hop-growers,  however,  can  say  so 
much  as  to  losses  incurred. 

A  history  of  the  establishment  and  destruction  of  the 
business  follows: 

About  the  fifteenth  of  March,  1865,  Chas.  Wood,  of 
Olympia,  sent  about  three  peck  of  hop  roots  to  Steila- 
coom  for  my  father,  Jacob  R.  Meeker,  who  then  lived  on 
his  claim  near  by  where  Sumner  was  afterwards  built 
in  the  Puyallup  valley.     John  V.   Meeker,   my  brother, 


284        VENTURES   AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

carried  this  sack  of  roots  on  his  back  from  Steilacoom 
to  my  father's  home,  a  distance  of  about  twenty  miles, 
passing  by  my  cabin  (the  remains  of  which  are  still 
standing'  in  Pioneer  Park,  Puyallup;  (illustration,  appen- 
dix), with  his  precious  burden.  I  fingered  out  of  the  sack 
roots  sufficient  to  plant  six  hills  of  hops,  and  so  far  as 
I  know  those  were  the  first  hops  planted  in  the  Puyallup 
Valley.  My  father  planted  the  remainder  in  four  rows 
of  about  six  rods  in  length,  and  in  the  following  Septem- 
ber harvested  the  equivalent  of  one  bale  of  hops,  180 
pounds,  and  sold  them  to  Mr.  Wood  for  85  cents  per 
pound,  receiving  a  little  over  .$150.00. 

This  was  the  beginning  of  the  hop  business  in  the 
Puyallup  Valley,  and  the  Territory  of  Washington. 

This  was  more  money  than  had  been  received  by 
any  settler  in  the  Puyallup  Valley,  excepting  perhaps 
two,  from  the  products  of  their  farm  for  that  year.  My 
father's  near-by  neighbors,  Messrs.  E.  C.  Mead  and  L.  P. 
Thompson,  obtained  a  barrel  of  hop  roots  from  California 
the  next  year,  and  planted  them  the  following  spring, — 
four  acres.  I  obtained  what  roots  I  could  get  that  year, 
but  not  enough  to  plant  an  acre.  The  following  year 
(1867)  I  planted  four  acres,  and  for  twenty-six  successive 
years  thereafter  added  to  this  plantation  until  our  hold- 
ings reached  past  the  five-hundred-acre  mark,  and  our 
production  over  four  hundred  tons  a  year. 

After  having  produced  his  third  crop  my  father 
died  (1869),  but  not  until  after  he  had  shipped  his  hops 
to  Portland,  Oregon.  In  settling  up  his  affairs  I  found 
it  necessary  for  me  to  go  to  Portland,  and  there  met 
Henry  Winehard,  who  had  purchased  some  of  the  hops. 
Mr.  Winehard  was  the  largest  brewer  in  Oregon.     After 


THE   HOP   BUSINESS  2.S5 

closing  up  the  business  with  Mr.  AVinehard,  he  abruptly 
said,  "I  want  your  hops  next  year."  I  answered  that  I  did 
not  know  what  the  price  would  be.  He  said,  "I  will  pay 
you  as  much  as  anybody  else,"  and  then  frankly  told  me 
of  their  value.  He  said  they  were  the  finest  hops  he 
had  ever  used,  and  that  with  them  he  had  no  need  to  use 
either  foreign  or  New  York  hops,  but  with  the  hops 
raised  in  the  hotter  climate  of  California,  he  could  not 
use  them  alone.  I  told  him  he  should  have  them,  and  the 
result  was  that  for  fourteen  years,  with  the  exception  of 
one  year,  Mr.  Winehard  used  the  hops  grown  on  my 
place,  some  years  200  bales, — some  years  more.  My 
meeting  with  him  gave  me  such  confidence  in  the  busi- 
ness that  I  did  not  hesitate  to  add  to  my  yards  as  rapidly 
as  I  could  get  the  land  cleared,  for  I  had  at  first  planted 
right  among  the  stumps.  There  came  a  depression  in  this 
business  in  1869  and  1870,  and  my  neighbors,  Messrs. 
Mead  and  Thompson,  made  the  mistake  of  shipping  their 
hops  to  Australia,  and  finally  lost  their  entire  crop — not 
selling  for  much,  if  anything,  above  the  cost  of  the 
freight,  while  Mr.  Winehard  paid  me  25  cents  a  pound 
for  my  crop.  Under  the  discouragement  of  the  loss  of 
their  crop,  Messrs.  Mead  and  Thompson  concluded  to 
plow  up  a  part  of  their  plantation, — two  acres  and  a 
half, — whereupon  I  leased  that  portion  of  their  yard  for 
a  year,  paying  them  $10.00  an  acre  in  advance,  and  har- 
vested from  those  two  acres  and  a  half  over  four  thou- 
sand pounds  of  hops,  and  sold  them  to  Henry  Winehard 
for  50  cents  a  pound.     This  was  for  the  crop  of  1871. 

None  of  us  knew  anything  about  the  hop  business, 
and  it  was  totally  accidental  that  we  engaged  in  it,  but 
seeing  that  there  were  possibilities  of  great  gain.  I  took 


286        VENTURES   AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

extra  pains  to  study  up  the  question,  and  found  that  by 
allowing  our  hops  to  mature  thoroughly,  and  curing  them 
at  a  low  temperature,  and  baling  them  while  hot,  we 
could  produce  a  hop  that  would  compete  with  any  product 
in  the  world.  Others  of  my  neighbors  planted,  and  also 
many  in  Oregon,  until  there  soon  became  a  field  for  pur- 
chasing and  shipping  hops. 

But  the  fluctuations  were  so  great  that  in  a  few 
years  many  became  discouraged  and  lost  their  holdings, 
until  finally,  during  the  world's  hop  crop  failure  of  the 
year  1882,  there  came  to  be  unheard-of  prices  for  hops, 
and  fully  one-third  of  the  crop  of  the  Puyallup  Valley 
was  sold  for  $1.00  per  pound.  I  had  that  year  nearly 
100,000  pounds,  which  averaged  me  70  cents  per  pound. 

About  this  time  I  had  come  to  realize  that  the  im- 
portant market  for  hops  was  in  England,  and  began 
sending  trial  shipments,  first,  seven  bales,  then  the  follow- 
ing year  500  bales,  then  1,500  bales,  until  finally  our 
annual  shipments  reached  11,000  bales  a  year,  or  the 
equivalent  in  value  of  £100,000  sterling, — half  million 
dollars,  said  to  be  at  that  time  the  largest  export  hop 
trade  by  any  one  concern  in  the  United  States. 

This  business  could  not  properly  be  called  a  venture; 
it  was  simply  a  growth.  The  conditions  were  favorable 
in  that  we  could  produce  the  choicest  hops  in  the  world's 
market  at  the  lowest  price  of  any  kind,  and  we  actually 
did  press  the  English  growers  so  closely  that  over  fifteen 
thousand  acres  of  hops  were  destroyed  in  that  country. 

My  first  hop  house  was  built  in  1868, — a  log  house — 
and  stands  in  Pioneer  Park,  Puyallup,  to  this  day.  and 
is  carefully  preserved  by  the  city  authorities  and  doubt- 
less will  be  until  it  perishes  by  the  hand  of  time.     (See 


THE    HOP    BUSINESS  287 

illustration,  appendix. )  We  frequently  employed  from  a 
thousand  to  twelve  hundred  people  during  the  harvest 
time.  Until  the  beginning  of  the  decline  of  the  business, 
the  result  of  that  little  start  of  hop  roots  had  brought 
over  twenty  million  dollars  into  the  Territory  of  Wash- 
ington. 

I  spent  four  winters  in  London  on  the  hop  market, 
and  became  acquainted  with  all  the  leading  hop  men  of 
the  metropolis. 

One  evening  as  I  stepped  out  of  my  office,  and  cast 
my  eyes  towards  one  group  of  our  hop  houses,  I  thought 
I  could  see  that  the  hop  foliage  of  a  field  near  by  was 
off  color— did  not  look  natural.  Calling  one  of  my  clerks 
from  the  office  he  said  the  same  thing — they  did  not  look 
natural.  I  walked  down  to  the  yards,  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
distant,  and  there  first  saw  the  hop-louse.  The  yard  was 
literally  alive  with  lice,  and  were  destroying, — at  least 
the  quality.  At  that  time  I  issued  a  hop  circular,  sending 
it  to  over  600  correspondents  all  along  the  coast  in  Cali- 
fornia, Oregon,  Washington,  and  British  Columbia,  and 
before  the  week  was  out  I  began  to  receive  samples  and 
letters  from  them,  and  inquiries  asking  what  was  the 
matter  with  the  hops. 

It  transpired  that  the  attack  of  lice  was  simultaneous 
in  Oregon,  Washington  and  British  Columbia,  extending 
over  a  distance  coastwise  of  more  than  500  miles,  and 
even  inland  up  the  Skagit  River,  where  there  was  an 
isolated  yard. 

It  came  like  a  clap  of  thunder  out  of  a  clear  sky,  so 
unexpected  was  it. 

I  sent  my  second  son,  Fred  Meeker,  to  London  to 
study  the  question  and  to  get  their  methods  of  fighting 


288        VENTURES   AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

the  pest,  and  to  import  some  spraying  machinery.  We 
found,  however,  in  the  lapse  of  years,  to  our  cost,  that 
the  conditions  here  were  different,  that  while  we  could 
kill  the  louse,  the  foliage  here  was  so  dense  that  we  had 
to  use  so  much  of  the  spraying  material  that,  in  killing 
the  louse,  we  virtually  destroyed  the  hops,  and  instead 
of  being  able  to  sell  our  hops  at  the  top  price  of  the 
market,  our  product  fell  to  tne  foot  of  the  list,  the  last 
crop  I  raised  costing  me  eleven  cents  per  pound,  and 
selling  for  three  under  the  hammer  at  sheriff's  sale. 

At  that  time  I  had  more  than  $100,000.00  advanced 
to  my  neighbors  and  others  upon  their  hop  crops,  which 
was  lost.  These  people  simply  could  not  pay,  and  I  for- 
gave the  debt,  taking  no  judgments  against  them,  and 
have  never  regretted  the  action. 

All  of  my  accumulations  were  swept  away,  and  I 
quit  the  business,  or,  rather,  the  business  quit  me. 

The  result  was  that  finally,  after  a  long  struggle, 
nearly  all  of  the  hops  were  plowed  up  and  the  land  used 
for  dairy,  fruit  and  general  crops,  and  is  actually  now 
of  a  higher  value  than  when  bearing  hops. 

A  curious  episode  occurred  during  the  height  of  our 
struggle  to  save  the  hop  business  from  impending  de- 
struction. The  Post-Intelligencer  of  Seattle  published 
the  following  self-explanatory  correspondence  on  the  date 
shown  and  while  the  Methodist  conferences  was  yet  in 
session : 

THE   CURSE   ON    THE   HOPS. 

Puyallup,  Sept.   6,   1895. 
To  the  Editor: 

In  this  morning's  report  of  the  Methodist  conference 
I  notice  under  the  heading  "A  Curse  on  the  Hop  Crop," 


THE  HOP   BUSINESS  289 

that  Preacher  Hanson,  of  Puyallup,  reported  he  had  some 
good  news  from  that  great  hop  country — the  hop  crop, 
the  main  support  of  the  people,  was  a  failure;  the  crop 
had  been  cursed  by  God.  Whereupon  Bishop  Bowman 
said  "Good"  and  from  all  over  the  room  voices  could 
be  heard  giving  utterance  to  the  fervent  ejaculation, 
"Thank  God." 

For  the  edification  of  the  reverend  fathers  and  fer- 
vent brethren  I  wish  to  publish  to  them  and  to  the  world 
that  I  have  beat  God,  for  I  have  500  acres  of  hops  at 
Puyallup  and  Kent  that  are  free  from  lice,  the  "curse  of 
God,"  and  that  I  believe  it  was  the  work  of  an  emulsion 
of  whale  oil  soap  and  quassie  sprayed  on  the  vines  that 
thwarted  God's  purpose  to  "curse"  me  and  others  who 
exterminated  the  lice. 

One  is  almost  ready  to  ask  if  this  is  indeed  the  nine- 
teenth century  of  enlightenment,  to  hear  such  utterances 
gravely  made  by  men  supposed  to  be  expounders  of  that 
great  religion  of  love  as  promulgated  by  the  Great 
Teacher. 

I  want  to  recall  to  the  memory  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Han- 
son that  the  church  in  which  he  has  been  preaching  for 
a  year  past  was  built  in  great  part  by  money  contributed 
from  gains  of  this  business  "Cursed  by  God."  For  my- 
self I  can  inform  him  that,  as  a  citizen  of  Puyallup,  I 
contributed  $400.  to  buy  the  ground  upon  which  that 
church  edifice  is  built,  every  cent  of  which  came  from 
this  same  hop  business  "cursed  by  God."  I  would 
"thank  God"  if  they  would  return  the  money  and  thus 
ease  their  guilty  consciences. 

E.  MEEKER. 

When  this  letter  appeared,   vigorous  protests  came 


290   VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

thick  and  fast  and  compelled  the  good  fathers  to  give 
Mr.  Hanson  another  charge.  But  my  vainglorious  boast- 
ing was  not  justified  as  the  sequel  shows ;  our  hops  were 
finally  destroyed — whether  under  a  curse  or  not  must 
be  decided  by  the  reader,  each  for  himself  or  herself. 
But  I  never  got  my  $400.00  back,  and,  in  fact,  did  not 
want  it,  and  doubtless  wrote  the  letter  in  a  pettish  mood. 


THE   BEET   SUGAR   BUSINESS  291 

CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

THE    BEET    SUGAR   VENTURE. 

A  more  proper  heading,  I  think,  would  be  "Sugar 
Beet  Raising,"  but  everybody  at  the  time  spoke  of  it  the 
other  way,  and  so  it  shall  be.  I  did  raise  hundreds  of  tons 
of  sugar  beets,  and  fed  them  to  the  dairy,  but  had  only 
enough  of  them  manufactured,  to  get  half  a  ton  of  sugar, 
which  was  exhibited  at  the  New  Orleans  exposition — the 
second  year  of  the  exposition — and  probably  the  first 
sugar  ever  made  from  Washington  grown  beets. 

The  first  winter  I  spent  on  the  London  hop  market 
(1884)  my  attention  was  called  to  the  remarkably  cheap 
German  made  beet  sugar,  selling  then  at  "tupence"  a 
pound,  as  the  English  people  expressed  it — four  cents  a 
pound,  our  currency.  If  beet  sugar  could  be  produced  so 
cheaply,  why  could  we  not  make  it,  I  queried,  knowing  as 
I  did  what  enormous  .yields  of  beets  could  be  obtained  in 
the  rich  soils  of  the  Puyallup  and  White  River  valleys. 
So,  I  hied  me  off  to  the  German  sugar  district,  and  visited 
several  of  the  factories,  taking  only  a  hasty  view  of  their 
works,  but  much  impressed  with  the  importance  of  the 
subject. 

The  following  spring  I  planted  two  acres  on  one  of 
my  White  River  farms,  and  Thomas  Alvord  planted  two 
acres.  I  harvested  forty-seven  tons  from  my  two  acres 
and  at  different  times  during  their  later  growth  sent  a 
dozen  samples  or  more  to  the  beet  sugar  factory  at  Alvar- 
ado,  California,  to  be  tested.  The  report  came  back  high- 
ly favorable — rich  and  pure,  and  if  figures  would  not  lie, 
here  was  a  field  better  than  hops — better  than  any  crop 


292        VENTURES   A  X 1  >   ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA   MEEKER 

any  of  the  farmers  were  raising  at  the  time.  So  Mr.  Al- 
vord  and  my  self  organized  a  beet  sugar  company,  and 
the  next  year  increased  our  acreage  to  further  test  the 
cost  of  raising  and  of  their  sugar  producing  qualities.  I 
raised  over  a  hundred  tons  that  year,  and  we  sent  ten 
tons  to  the  Alvarado  factory  to  extract  the  sugar — mean- 
while had  sent  about  a  hundred  samples  at  different  times, 
to  be  tested.  Not  all  of  the  reports  came  back  favorable, 
and  the  conclusion  was  reached  to  test  farther  another 
year,  and  accordingly  a  still  larger  acreage  was  planted. 
That  year  I  sent  my  second  son,  Fred  Meeker,  to  a  school 
of  chemistry  in  San  Francisco,  and  when  the  factory 
started  up  in  Alvarado,  to  the  factory,  for  what  was 
termed  the  campaign,  to  work  and  to  learn  the  business. 
Our  samples  were  again  sent  with  the  same  result,  some 
were  exceedingly  rich  and  pure,  while  others  would  yield 
nothing.  Fred  wrote  that  the  beets  that  had  taken  a 
second  growth  were  worthless  for  producing  sugar. 

That  letter  settled  the  whole  question  as  our  open 
moist  autumn  weather  would  surely  at  times  destroy  the 
crop,  and  would  make  it  extremely  hazardous  to  enter 
into  the  business  and  so  the  whole  matter  was  dropped  as 
wrell  as  $2500.00  of  expenses  incurred.  Subsequently, 
however,  the  business  has  been  successfully  established  in 
the  drier  climate  of  the  eastern  part  of  Washington  and 
Oregon. 

Before  giving  an  account  of  the  adventure  incident 
to  marking  the  Oregon  Trail  mentioned  in  last  chapter 
and  given  in  detail  in  chapters  to  follow  in  this  volume 
I  will  write  of  one  more  venture  following  my  return  from 
the  Klondike;  that  is,  of  my  writing  a  book.  The  simple 
act  of  writing  a  book  was  in  no  sense  either  a  venture  or 


THE  BEET   SUGAR  BUSINESS  293 

an  adventure,  though  it  took  me  over  three  years  to  do 
it.  But  when  I  undertook  to  have  it  printed  (an  after- 
thought), then  a  real  venture  confronted  me.  No  local 
works  so  far  had  paid  printers'  bills  and  I  was  admon- 
ished by  friends  that  a  loss  would  undoubtedly  occur  if  I 
printed  the  work.  But  their  fears  were  not  well  founded, 
the  work  was  printed,*  the  sales  were  made  and  the 
printer  paid. 


*  Pioneer  Reminiscences  of  Puget  Sound,  The  Tragedy  of  Leschi. 


294        VENTURES   AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA   MEEKER 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

BANKING. 

My  connection  with  the  banking  business  in  Puyallup 
was  neither  a  venture  nor  an  adventure,  in  the  common 
acceptance  of  the  meaning  of  these  words,  and  to  this  day 
I  can  scarcely  account  for  my  action.  I  was  sure  that  I 
was  not  "cut  out"  for  a  banker,  and  the  business  had  no 
attraction  for  me.  I  did  want  to  see  a  National  Bank 
established  in  Puyallup,  and  so  took  $10,000.00  of  the 
stock,  became  a  member  of  the  directory,  and  committed 
the  grave  indiscretion  of  letting  others  "run  the  bank" 
without  giving  it  personal  attention. 

In  the  lapse  of  time  parties  controlling  a  majority  of 
the  stock,  "run  it  into  the  ground,"  to  use  a  western 
phrase,  that  is,  loaned  to  their  cousins  and  their  aunts, 
to  themselves  indirectly,  and  to  others  indiscreetly,  until 
matters  looked  shaky.  Suddenly  "business"  called  these 
parties  to  other  and  more  attractive  fields,  and  lo,  and 
behold,  I  became  a  bank  president. 

This  was  just  before  the  time  of  the  panic,  and  the 
question  of  what  was  to  become  of  the  bank  became  one 
of  the  utmost  concern.  The  notes  were  nearly  all  hypo- 
thecated to  secure  loans  from  other  banks,  while  the 
tightening  times  caused  the  deposits  to  run  down;  the 
securities  could  not  be  realized  upon,  and  the  banks  hold- 
ing them  called  for  their  loans.  The  depositors,  about 
one  hundred  in  number,  were  all  my  neighbors,  and  men 
and  women  of  small  means.  One  thing  was  certain — I 
could  not  continue  to  receive  deposits  with  the  knowledge 


BANKING  295 

I  had  of  the  affairs  of  the  bank,  either  with  safety  to  my- 
self or  the  depositors.  So  one  day  when  the  deposits  had 
run  to  a  very  low  ebb,  and  the  cash  balance  correspond- 
ingly low,  and  a  threatening  demand  had  been  made  by 
one  of  the  secured  banks,  it  was  evident  the  time  had 
come  when  the  bank  must  go  into  the  hands  of  a  receiver 
and  what  money  was  on  hand  to  be  frittered  away  in  re- 
ceiver's fees,  or  pay  out  the  money  on  hand  to  the  de- 
positors, and  let  the  creditor  banks  collect  on  their  col- 
laterals. It  was  impracticable  to  pay  depositers  in  part, 
or  part  of  them  in  full.  October  16th,  1895,  on  my  own 
responsibility  I  obtained  enough,  with  the  funds  of  the 
bank  in  hand  to  pay  the  depositors  in  full.  An  attorney 
for  one  of  the  secured  creditors  of  the  bank,  suspected 
what  was  going  on,  and  believing  the  money  was  on  my 
person  undertook  to  detain  me  in  an  office  in  Tacoma 
until  papers  could  be  gotten  out  and  served.  But  he  was 
too  late,  as  A.  R.  Herlig,  my  attorney,  was  already  in 
Puyallup  with  the  funds,  with  directions  to  take  all  the 
funds  of  the  bank  at  nightfall,  and  with  the  cashier, 
George  Macklin,  now  of  Portland,  go  to  each  depositor, 
and  without  explanation  insist  on  their  taking  the  money 
due  them.  Charles  Hood,  of  Puyallup,  and  I  think,  John 
P.  Hartman,  now  of  Seattle,  was  of  the  party.  Two 
trusted  men  with  guns  were  sent  along  to  guard  the 
funds.  In  fact,  all  carried  guns,  and  so  the  story  went 
out  that  the  bank  had  sent  each  depositor  what  was  due 
him,  and  sent  men  along  with  guns  to  make  him  take  it. 
This  became  an  alleged  witticism  for  a  long  time  in  Puyal- 
lup, but  finally  wore  itself  out.  The  result  was  that  be- 
fore four  o'clock  next  morning  all  the  depositors  were 
paid,  except  four,  who  could  not  be  found,  and  the  next 


296        VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES  OP  EZRA  MEEKER 

day  the  bank  was  open  just  the  same  as  if  nothing  had 
happened,  but  all  deposits  were  refused.  The  attempted 
hold-up  in  Tacoma  resulted  in  nothing  more  serious  than  a 
scuffle,  the  loss  of  a  collar  button  or  two,  with  plenty  of 
threats,  but  no  action. 

I  took  the  train  for  Puyallup,  went  to  bed  at  the 
usual  hour,  and  slept  soundly,  as  I  always  do. 

As  expected,  in  a  few  days,  a  bank  examiner  came 
to  take  possession  of  the  bank,  having  received  direct 
orders  from  Washington  from  Mr.  Eckles,  the  comptroller. 
In  a  week  he  was  willing  to  quit,  and  asked  that  the  bank 
should  be  turned  over  to  the  directors,  and  was  ordered 
to  do  so.  The  affairs  of  the  bank  were  closed  up  without 
litigation,  but  the  capital  was  gone,  and  all  that  was  left 
was  the  furniture  and  the  charter,  which  is  held  to  be 
valid  to  this  day,  and  so  it  would  seem  I  am  yet  the  presi- 
dent of  the  First  National  Bank  of  Puyallup,  and  have 
been  for  nearly  fifteen  years. 

A  few  years  ago  the  late  Charles  Fogg,  of  Tacoma, 
acting  as  an  attorney  for  a  group  of  capitalists,  under- 
took to  marshal  the  scattered  and  really  worthless  stock 
with  a  view  to  rehabilitate  the  bank  and  save  the  name, 
but  were  met  by  some  obstinate  stockholder  who  refused 
to  either  co-operate  or  dispose  of  their  holdings  and  so  the 
bank  sleeps  though  not  dead.  Possibly  when  the  "Rip 
Van  Winkle  sleep"  of  twenty  years  has  lapsed  and  when 
the  little  city  of  Puyallup  has  reached  the  twenty-thou- 
sand mark  of  inhabitants  and  one  or  two  more  of  the 
recalcitrant  stockholders  die  (one  of  the  chief  obstruc- 
tionists died  since  the  attempt  was  made),  the  bank  may 
reappear  as  one  of  the  institutions  of  the  rising  city  of 
Puyallup. 


THE   KLONDIKE   TRIP  197 

CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

THE    KLONDIKE    VENTURE. 

After  the  failure  of  the  hop  business,  I  undertook  a 
venture  to  the  mines  of  the  north.  This  resulted  in  a  real 
live  adventure  of  exciting  experience. 

I  had  lived  in  the  old  Oregon  country  forty-four 
years  and  had  never  seen  a  mine.  Mining  had  no  attrac- 
tion for  me,  any  more  than  corner  lots  in  new,  embryo 
cities.  I  did  not  understand  the  value  of  either,  and  left 
both  severely  alone.  But  when  my  accumulations  had  all 
been  swallowed  up,  the  land  I  had  previously  owned  gone 
into  other  hands,  and,  in  fact,  my  occupation,  gone,  I 
concluded  to  take  a  chance  in  a  mining  country;  matters 
could  not  well  be  much  worse,  and  probably  could  be  made 
better  and  so  in  the  spring  of  1898,  I  made  my  first  trip 
over  the  Chilcoot  Pass,  and  then  down  the  Yukon  River 
to  Dawson  in  a  flat-boat,  and  ran  the  famous  White  Horse 
rapids  with  my  load  of  vegetables  for  the  Klondike  min- 
ers. 

One  may  read  of  the  Chilcoot  Pass  the  most  graphic 
descriptions  written,  and  yet  when  he  is  up  against  the 
experience  of  crossing,  he  will  find  the  difficulties  more 
formidable  than  his  wildest  fancy  or  expectation  had 
pictured.  I  started  in  with  fifteen  tons  of  freight,  and 
got  through  with  nine.  On  one  stretch  of  2000  feet  I  paid 
forty  dollars  a  ton  freight,  and  I  knew  of  others  paying 
more.  The  trip  for  a  part  of  the  way  reminded  me  of  the 
scenes  on  the  plains  in  1852 ; — such  crowds,  that  they 
jostled  each  other  on  the  several  parallel  trails  where 
there  was  room  for  more  than  one  track.  At  the  pass, 
most  of  the  travel  came  upon  one  track,  and  so  steep  that 


298        VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

the  ascent  could  only  be  made  by  cutting  steps  in  the  ice 
and  snow- — 1500  in  all. 

Frequently  every  step  would  be  full,  while  crowds 
jostled  each  other  at  the  foot  of  the  ascent  to  get  into  the 
single  file,  each  man  carrying  from  one  hundred  (it  was 
said)  to  two  hundred  pounds  pack  on  his  back.  Neverthe- 
less, after  all  sorts  of  experiences,  I  arrived  in  Dawson 
with  nine  tons  of  my  outfit,  sold  my  fresh  potatoes  at 
$36.00  a  bushel  and  other  things  in  like  proportionate 
prices  and  in  two  weeks  started  up  the  river,  homeward 
bound,  with  two  hundred  ounces  of  Klondike  gold  in  my 
belt.  But  four  roundtrips  in  two  years  satisfied  me  that 
I  did  not  want  any  more  of  like  experience.  Then  was 
when  my  mind  would  run  on  this  last  venture,  the  monu- 
ment expedition,  while  writing  the  reminiscences,*  a 
part  of  which  are  elsewhere  to  be  found  in  this  volume. 
Had  it  not  been  for  the  loss  of  my  business,  it  is  doubtful 
if  I  ever  would  have  settled  down  to  this  work,  and  so, 
maybe,  the  loss  was  a  blessing  in  disguise.  Anyway,  no 
happier  years  of  my  life  have  passed  than  while  engaged 
on  that  work. 

As  I  have  said,  the  trips  to  the  Klondike  became  real 
adventures.  Fortunately  detained  for  a  couple  of  days,  I 
escaped  the  avalanche  that  buried  fifty-two  people  in  the 
snow,  and  passed  by  the  morgue  the  second  day  after  the 
catastrophe  on  my  way  to  the  summit,  and  doubtless  over 
the  bodies  of  many  unknown  dead,  imbedded  so  deeply  in 
the  snow  that  it  was  utterly  impossible  to  recover  them. 

I  received  a  good  ducking  in  my  first  passage  through 
the   White   Horse   Rapids,    and   vowed   I   would   not    go 


*  "Pioneer    Reminiscences    of    Puget    Sound,"    600    pages:    $2.25. 
Address  Ezra  Meeker,   1201   38th  Ave.   N.,   Seattle,   Wash. 


THK     KLONDIKE   TRIP  299> 

through  there  again,  but  I  did,  the  very  next  trip  that 
same  year,  and  came  out  of  it  dry;  then  when  going  down 
the  thirty-mile  river,  it  did  seem  as  though  we  could  not 
escape  being  dashed  upon  the  rocks,  but  somehow  or  an- 
other got  through  safely  while  the  bank  of  that  river  was 
strewed  with  wrecks,  and  the  waters  had  swallowed  up 
many  victims.  When  the  Yukon  proper  was  reached,  the 
current  was  not  so  swift  but  the  shoals  were  numerous, 
and  more  than  once  we  were  "hung  up"  on  the  bar,  and 
always  with  an  uncertainty  as  to  how  we  would  get  off. 
In  all  of  this  experience  of  the  two  trips  by  the  scows  no 
damage  resulted,  except  once  when  a  hole  was  jammed 
into  the  scow,  and  we  thought  we  were  "goners"  certain, 
but  effected  a  landing  so  quickly  as  to  unload  our  cargo 
dry.  I  now  blame  myself  for  taking  such  risks,  but  cur- 
iously enough  I  must  admit  that  I  enjoyed  it,  sustained, 
no  doubt,  with  the  high  hopes  of  coming  out  with  "my 
pile."  But  fate  or  something  else  was  against  me,  for 
the  after  mining  experience  swept  all  the  accumulation 
away  "slick  as  a  mitten,"  as  the  old  saying  goes,  and  I 
came  out  over  the  rotten  ice  of  the  Yukon  in  April  of  1901 
to  stay,  and  to  vow  I  never  wanted  to  see  another  mine, 
or  visit  another  mining  country.  Small  wonder,  the  reader 
may  say,  when  I  write,  that  in  two  weeks  time  after  ar- 
riving home  I  was  able  to,  and  did  celebrate  our  golden 
wedding  with  the  wife  of  fifty  years  and  enjoyed  the  joys 
of  a  welcome  home  even  if  I  did  not  have  my  pockets  filled 
with  gold.  I  had  then  passed  the  seventy-year  mark,  and 
thought  my  "pet  project,"  as  some  people  call  it,  of  mark- 
ing the  old  Oregon  Trail  was  hung  up  indefinitely,  but 
the  sequel  is  shown  in  what  follows  in  this  volume  and  is 
the  answer  to  my  forebodings.    I  am  now  at  this  writing 


3  00        VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

past  the  seventy-eight-year  mark,  and  cannot  see  but 
I  am  as  strong  as  when  I  floated  down  the  Yukon  in  a 
fiatboat,  or  packed  my  goods  over  the  Chilcoot  Pass,  or 
drove  my  ox  team  over  the  summit  of  the  Rocky  Mountains 
on  my  recent  trip  to  mark  the  historic  Oregon  Trail. 


THK   OX  301 

The  Oregon  Trail  Monument  Expedition 

CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

THE    OX. 

The  ox  is  passing;  in  fact,  has  passed.  Like  the  old 
time  spinning-wheel  and  the  hand  loom,  that  are  only  to 
be  seen  as  mementos  of  the  past,  or  the  quaint  old  cob- 
bler's bench  with  its  hand-made  lasts  and  shoe  pegs,  or 
the  heavy  iron  bubbling  mush  pots  on  the  crane  in  the 
chimney  corner;  like  the  fast  vanishing  of  the  old-time 
men  and  women  of  fifty  years  or  more  ago — all  are  pass- 
ing, to  be  laid  aside  for  the  new  ways,  and  the  new  actors 
on  the  scenes  of  life.  While  these  ways  and  these  scenes 
and  these  actors  have  had  their  day,  yet  their  experiences 
and  the  lessons  taught  are  not  lost  to  the  world,  although 
at  times  almost  forgotten. 

The  difference  between  a  civilized  and  an  untutored 
people  lies  in  the  application  of  these  experiences ;  while 
the  one  builds  upon  the  foundations  of  the  past,  which 
engenders  hope  and  ambition  for  the  future,  the  other  has 
no  past,  nor  aspirations  for  the  future.  As  reverence  for 
the  past  dies  out  in  the  breasts  of  a  generation,  so  like- 
wise patriotism  wanes.  In  the  measure  that  the  love  of  the 
history  of  the  past  dies,  so  likewise  do  the  higher  aspira- 
tions for  the  future.  To  keep  the  flame  of  patriotism  alive 
we  must  keep  the  memory  of  the  past  vividly  in  mind. 

Bearing  these  thoughts  in  mind,  this  expedition  to 
perpetrate  the  memory  of  the  old  Oregon  Trail  was  un- 
dertaken. And  there  was  this  further  thought,  that  here 
was  this  class  of  heroic  men  and  women  who  fought  a 
veritable  battle. — a  battle  of  peace,  to  be  sure,  yet  as  brave 


302    VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

a  battle  as  any  ever  fought  by  those  who  faced  the  can- 
non's mouth;— a  battle  that  was  fraught  with  as  momen- 
tous results  as  any  of  the  great  battles  of  grim  war; — a 
battle  that  wrested  half  a  continent  from  the  native  race 
and  from  a  mighty  nation  contending  for  mastery  in  the 
unknown  regions  of  the  West — whose  fame  was  scantily 
acknowledged,  whose  name  wras  already  almost  forgot- 
ten, and  Avhose  track,  the  battle-ground  of  peace,  was  on 
the  verge  of  impending  oblivion.  Shall  this  become  an 
established  fact?  The  answer  to  this  is  this  expedition, 
to  perpetuate  the  memory  of  the  old  Oregon  Trail,  and 
to  honor  the  intrepid  pioneers  who  made  it  and  saved  this 
great  region — the  "Old  Oregon  Country" — for  American 
rule. 

The  ox  team  was  chosen  as  a  typical  reminder  of 
pioneer  days,  and  as  an  effective  instrument  to  attract 
attention,  arouse  enthusiasm,  and  as  a  help  to  secure  aid 
to  forward  the  work  of  marking  the  old  Trail,  and  erect- 
ing monuments  in  centers  of  population. 

The  team  consisted  of  one  seven-year-old  ox,  Twist, 
and  one  unbroken  range  four-year-old  steer,  Dave.  When 
we  were  ready  to  start,  Twist  weighed  1470  and  Dave  1560 
pounds  respectively.  This  order  of  Aveight  was  soon 
changed.  In  three  months'  time  Twist  gained  130  and 
Dave  lost  10  pounds.  All  this  time  I  fed  with  a  lavish 
hand  all  the  rolled  barley  I  dare  and  all  the  hay  they 
would  eat.  During  that  time  thirty-three  days  lapsed 
in  which  we  did  not  travel,  being  engaged  either  arrang- 
ing for  the  erection  or  dedication  of  monuments. 

The  wagon  is  new  woodwork  throughout  except  one 
hub,  which  did  service  across  the  plains  in  1853.  The  hub- 
bands,  boxes  and  other  irons  are  from  two  old-time  wag- 


THE   OX  303 

ons  that  crossed  the  plains  in  1853,  and  differ  some  in  size 
and  shape;  hence  the  fore  and  hind  wheel  hubs  do  not 
match.  The  axles  are  wood,  with  the  old-time  linch  pins 
and  steel  skeins,  involving  the  use  of  tar  and  the  tar 
bucket.  The  bed  is  of  the  old  style  "prairie  schooner," 
so  called,  fashioned  as  a  boat,  like  those  of  "ye  olden 
times. ' '  I  crossed  Snake  River  in  two  places  in  1852,  with 
all  I  possessed  (except  the  oxen  and  cows)  including  the 
running  gear  of  the  wagon,  in  a  wagon-box  not  as  good 
as  this  one  shown  in  the  illustration  in  appendix. 

In  one  respect  the  object  was  attained,  that  of  attract- 
ing attention,  with  results  in  part  wholly  unexpected.  I 
had  scarcely  driven  the  outfit  away  from  my  own  door- 
yard  till  the  work  of  defacing  the  wagon  and  wagon  cover, 
and  even  the  nice  map  of  the  old  Trail  began.  First,  I 
noticed  a  name  or  two  written  on  the  wagon-bed,  then  a 
dozen  or  more,  all  stealthily  placed  there,  until  the  whole 
was  so  closely  covered  there  was  no  room  for  more.  Fin- 
ally the  vandals  began  carving  initial's  on  the  wagon  bed, 
cutting  off  pieces  to  carry  away.  Eventually  I  put  a  stop 
to  it  by  employing  a  special  police,  posting  notices,  and 
nabbing  some  in  the  very  act. 

Give  me  Indians  on  the  plain  to  contend  with,  give 
me  fleas — ah,  yes,  the  detested  sage  brush  ticks  to  bur- 
row in  your  flesh — but  deliver  me  from  the  degenerates 
who  are  cheap  notoriety  seekers. 

Many  good  people  have  thought  there  was  some 
organization  behind  this  work,  or  that  there  had  been 
government  aid  secured.  To  all  of  this  class,  and  to  those 
who  may  read  these  lines,  I  will  quote  from  the  cards  is- 
sued at  the  outset:  "The  expense  of  this  expedition  to 
perpetuate  the  memory  of  the  old  Oregon  Trail,  by  erect- 


304         VENTURES   AND   ADVENTURES   OP   EZRA    MEEKER 

ing  stone  monuments  is  borne  by  myself  except  such  vol- 
untary aid  as  may  be  given  by  those  taking  an  interest  in 
the  work,  and  you  are  respectfully  solicited  to  contribute 
such  sum  as  may  be  convenient."  The  use  of  these  cards 
was  soon  discontinued,  however.  After  leaving  Portland 
no  more  contributions  were  solicited  or  in  fact  received 
for  the  general  expense  of  the  expedition,  and  on]y  dona- 
tions for  local  monuments,  to  be  expended  by  local  com- 
mittees were  taken.  I  found  this  course  necessary  to  dis- 
arm criticism  of  the  inveterate  croakers,  more  interested 
in  searching  some  form  of  criticism  than  in  lending  a 
helping  hand. 

To  my  appeal  a  generous  response  has  been  made, 
however,  as  attested  by  the  line  of  monuments  between 
Puget  Sound  and  the  Missouri  River,  a  brief  account  of 
which,  with  incidents  of  the  trip  made  by  me  with  an  ox 
team,  Avill  follow. 


THE  START  305 

CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

THE    START. 

Camp  No.  1  was  in  my  front  dooryard  at  Puyallup, 
Washington  (see  appendix),  a  town  established  on  my 
own  homestead  nearly  forty  years  ago,  on  the  line  of  the 
Northern  Pacific  Railroad,  nine  miles  southeast  of  Ta- 
coma,  and  thirty  miles  south  of  Seattle.  Washington.  In 
platting  the  town  I  dedicated  a  park  and  called  it  Pioneer 
Park,  and  in  it  are  the  remains  of  our  ivy-covered  cabin 
(see  appendix),  where  the  wife  of  fifty-eight  years  and 
I,  with  our  growing  family,  spent  so  many  happy  hours. 
In  this  same  town  I  named  the  principal  thoroughfare 
Pioneer  Avenue,  and  a  short  street  abutting  the  park 
Pioneer  Way.  hence  the  reader  may  note  it  is  not  a  new 
idea  to  perpetuate  the  memory  of  the  pioneers. 

No  piece  of  machinery  ever  runs  at  the  start  as  well 
as  after  trial;  therefore  Camp  No.  1  was  maintained  sev- 
eral days  to  mend  up  the  weak  points,  and  so  after  a  few 
days  of  trial  everything  was  pronounced  in  order,  an  i 
Camp  No.  2  was  pitched  in  the  street  in  front  of  the 
Methodist  Church  of  the  town,  and  a  lecture  was  deliv- 
ered in  the  church  for  the  benefit  of  the  expedition. 

I  drove  to  Seattle,  passing  through  the  towns  of  Sum- 
ner, Auburn  and  Kent,  lecturing  in  each  place,  with  in- 
different success,  as  the  people  seemed  to  pay  more  at- 
tention to  the  ox  team  than  they  did  to  me,  and  cared 
more  to  be  in  the  open,  asking  trivial  questions,  than  to 
be  listening  to  the  story  of  the  Oregon  Trail.  However, 
when  I  came  to  count  the  results  I  found  ninety-two 
dollars  in  my  pocket,  but  also  found  out  that  I  could  not 
lecture  and  make  any  headway  in  the  work  of  getting 


306        VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

monuments  erected;  that  I  must  remain  in  the  open, 
where  I  could  meet  all  the  people  and  not  merely  a  small 
minority,  and  so  the  lecture  scheme  was  soon  after  aban- 
doned. 

Then  I  thought  to  arouse  an  interest  and  secure  some 
aid  in  Seattle,  where  I  had  hosts  of  friends  and  acquaint- 
ances, but  nothing  came  out  of  the  effort — my  closest 
friends  trying  to  dissuade  me  from  going — and,  I  may  say, 
actually  tried  to  convince  others  that  it  would  not  be 
an  act  of  friendship  to  lend  any  aid  to  the  enterprise. 
What,  for  lack  of  a  better  name,  I  might  call  a  benign 
humor  underlay  all  this  solicitude.  I  knew,  or  thought 
I  knew,  my  powers  of  physical  endurance  to  warrant 
undertaking  the  ordeal;  that  I  could  successfully  make 
the  trip,  but  my  closest  friends  were  the  most  obdurate, 
and  so  after  spending  two  weeks  in  Seattle  I  shipped  my 
outfit  by  steamer  to  Tacoma.  Conditions  there  were 
much  the  same  as  at  Seattle.  A  pleasant  incident,  how- 
ever, broke  the  monotony.  Henry  Hewitt,  of  Tacoma, 
drove  up  alongside  my  team,  then  standing  on  Pacific 
Avenue,  and  said,  ' '  Meeker,  if  you  get  broke  out  there  on 
the  Plains,  just  telegraph  me  for  money  to  come  back 
on."  I  said  no,  "I  would  rather  hear  you  say  to  tele- 
graph for  money  to  go  on  with."  "All  right,"  came 
the  response,  "have  it  that  way  then,"  and  drove  off, 
perhaps  not  afterwards  giving  the  conversation  a  second 
thought  until  he  received  my  telegram,  telling  him  I  had 
lost  an  ox  and  that  I  wanted  him  to  send  me  two  hundred 
dollars.  As  related  elsewhere,  the  response  came  quick, 
for  the  next  day  following  I  received  the  money.  "A 
friend  in  need  is  a  friend  in  deed." 

Somehow  no  serious  thought  ever  entered  my  mind 


OUT   ON   THE   TRAIL,  307 

to  turn  back  after  once  started,  no  more  than  when  the 
first  trip  of  1852  was  made. 

Almost  everyone  has  just  such  an  experience  in  life, 
and,  after  looking  back  over  the  vista  of  years,  wonder 
why.  In  this  case  I  knew  it  was  a  case  of  persistence 
only,  to  succeed  in  making  the  trip,  but  of  course  could 
not  know  as  to  the  results ;  but  there  was  more  than  this : 
I  simply  wanted  to  do  it.  and  having  once  resolved  to  do 
it,  nothing  but  utter  physical  disability  could  deter  me. 

From  Tacoma  I  shipped  by  steamer  to  Otympia. 

The  terminus  of  the  old  Trail  is  but  two  miles  dis- 
tant from  Olympia,  at  Tumwater,  the  extreme  southern 
point  of  Paget  Sound,  and  where  the  waters  of  the 
Des  Shutes  river  mingles  with  the  salt  waters  of  the  Pacific 
through  the  channels  of  Puget  Sound.  Admiralty  Inlet 
and  Straits  of  Fuca,  150  miles  distant.  Here  was  where 
the*  first  American  party  of  home-builders  rested  and 
settled  in  1845  and  became  the  end  of  the  Trail,  where 
land  and  water  travel  meet.  At  this  point  I  set  a  post, 
and  subsequently  arranged  for  an  inscribed  stone  to  be 
planted  to  permanently  mark  the  spot. 

I  quote  from  my  journal:  "Olympia,  February  19th, 
1906 : — Spent  the  day  canvassing  for  funds  for  the  monu- 
ment, giving  tickets  for  the  lecture  in  the  evening  in 
return ;  what  with  the  receipts  at  the  door  and  collections, 
found  I  had  $12.00— $21.00  of  which  was  given  to  Allen 
"Weir  for  benefit  of  monument  fund." 

Out  on  the  Trail. 
"Camp  10,  Tenino,  Feb.  20th :— Went  to  Tenino  on 
train  to  arrange  for  meeting  and  for  monument;  hired 
horse  team  to  take  outfit  to  Tenino,  16  miles,  and  drove 


30S        A'ENTURES   AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA   MEEKER 

oxen  under  the  yoke ;  went  into  camp  near  site  of  the 
monument  to  be  erected  about  3  p.  m." 

"21st.  A  red-letter  day;  drove  over  to  the  stone 
quarry  and  hauled  monument  over  to  site,  where  work- 
man followed  and  put  same  in  place.  This  monument 
was  donated  by  the  Tenino  Quarry  Company  and  is  in- 
scribed, 'Old  Oregon  Trail,  1845-53.'  At  2  o'clock  the 
stores  were  closed,  the  school  children  in  a  body  came 
over  and  nearly  the  whole  population  turned  out  to  the 
dedication  of  the  first  monument  on  the  Trail  (see  ap- 
pendix). Lectured  in  the  evening  to  a  good  house — had 
splendid  vocal  music.     Receipts  $16.00." 

The  reader  will  note  quotation  from  my  journal, 
"hire  horse  team  to  take  outfit  to  Tenino,"  and  wonder 
why  I  hire  a  team.  I  will  tell  you.  Dave,  the  so-called 
ox,  was  not  an  ox  but  simply  an  unruly  Montana  five- 
year-old  steer  and  as  mean  a  brute  as  ever  walked  on 
four  legs.  I  dare  not  entrust  the  driving  to  other  hands, 
and  must  go  ahead  to  arrange  for  the  monument  and  the 
lecture.  Dave  would  hook  and  kick  and  do  anything 
and  all  things  one  would  not  want  him  to  do,  but  to  be- 
have himself  was  not  a  part  of  his  disposition.  Besides, 
he  would  stick  his  tongue  out  from  the  smallest  kind  of 
exertion.  At  one  time  I  became  very  nearly  discouraged 
with  him.  He  had  just  been  shipped  in  off  the  Montana 
cattle  range  and  had  never  had  a  rope  on  him — unless  it 
was  when  he  was  branded — and  like  a  great  big  over- 
grown booby  of  a  boy,  his  flesh  was  flabby  and  he  could 
not  endure  any  sort  of  exertion  without  discomfort. 
This  is  the  ox  (see  appendix)  that  finally  made  the 
round  trip  and  that  bore  his  end  of  the  yoke  from  the 
tide  waters  of  the  Pacific  to  the  tide  waters  of  the  At- 


OUT   OX   THE   TRAIL  309 

lantic,  at  the  Battery,  New  York  City,  and  to  Washing- 
ton City  to  meet  the  President.  He  finally  became  sub- 
dued, though  not  conquered;  to  this  day  I  do  not  trust 
his  heels,  though  he  now  seldom  threatens  with  his  horns. 
He  weighed  in  Washington  City  when  viewed  by  the 
President  1,900  pounds — 330  pounds  more  than  he  did 
when  I  first  put  him  under  the  yoke  twenty-two  months 
before.  The  ox  "Twist,"  also  shown  in  the  illustration, 
suddenly  died  August  9th,  1906,  and  was  buried  within 
a  few  rods  of  the  Trail,  as  told  in  another  chapter.  It 
took  two  months  to  a  day  before  I  could  find  a  mate  for 
the  Dave  ox,  and  then  had  to  take  another  five-year-old 
steer  off  the  cattle  range  of  Nebraska.  This  steer,  Dandy 
(see  appendix),  evidently  had  never  been  handled,  but 
he  came  of  good  stock  and,  with  the  exception  of  awk- 
wardness, gave  me  no  serious  trouble.  Dandy  was  pur- 
chased out  of  the  stock  yards  of  Omaha,  weighed  1,470 
pounds,  and  the  day  before"  he  went  to  see  the  President 
tipped  the  scales  at  the  1,760-pound  notch  and  has  proven 
to  be  a  faithful,  serviceable  ox. 

CENTRALIA,    WASHINGTON. 

At  Centralia  contributions  were  made  sufficient  to 
warrant  ordering  an  inscribed  stone,  which  was  done, 
and  in  due  time  will  be  placed  in  position  at  the  inter- 
section of  the  Trail  and  road  a  short  way  out  from  the 
city. 

CHEHALIS,    WASHINGTON. 

At  Chehalis  a  point  was  selected  in  the  center  of  the 
street  at  the  park,  and  a  post  set  to  mark  the  spot  where 
the  monument  is  to  stand.     The  Commercial  Club  under- 


310   VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

took  the  work,  but  were  not  ready  to  erect  and  dedicate, 
as  a  more  expensive  monument  than  one  that  could  be 
speedily  obtained  would  be  provided  as  an  ornament  to 
the  park. 

I  vividly  recollected  this  section  of  the  old  Trail, 
having,  in  company  with  a  brother,  packed  my  blankets 
and  ' '  grub ' '  on  my  back  over  it  in  May,  1853,  and  camped 
on  it  near  by  over  night,  under  the  sheltering,  drooping 
branches  of  a  friendly  cedar  tree.  We  did  not  carry 
tents  on  such  a  trip,  but  slept  out  under  the  open  canopy 
of  heaven,  obtaining  such  shelter  as  we  could  from  day 
to  day. 

It  is  permissible  to  note  the  liberality  of  H.  C.  Davis, 
of  Claquato,  who  provided  a  fund  of  $50.00  to  purchase 
one  ox  for  the  expedition,  the  now  famous  ox  Dave  that 
made  the  round  trip  to  the  Atlantic  and  return. 

JACKSONS. 

John  R.  Jackson  was  the  first  American  citizen  to 
settle  north  of  the  Columbia  River.  One  of  the  daughters, 
Mrs.  Ware,  accompanied  by  her  husband,  indicated  the 
spot  where  the  monument  should  be  erected,  and  a  post 
was  planted.  A  touching  incident  was  that  Mrs.  Ware 
was  requested  to  put  the  post  in  place  and  hold  it  while 
her  husband  tamped  the  earth  around  it,  which  she  did 
with  tears  streaming  from  her  eyes  at  the  thought  that 
at  last  her  pioneer  father's  place  in  history  was  to  be 
recognized.  A  stone  was  ordered  at  once,  to  soon  take 
the  place  of  the  post. 

TOLEDO,     WASHINGTON. 

Toledo,  the  last  place  to  be  reached  on  the  old  Trail 
in  Washington,  is  on  the  Cowlitz,  a  mile  from  the  landing 


OUT   ON   THE   TRAIL.  311 

where  the  pioneers  left  the  river  on  the  overland  trail  to 
the  Sound. 

PORTLAND,    OREGON. 

From  Toledo  I  shipped  by  river  steamer  the  whole 
outfit,  and  took  passage  with  my  assistants  to  Portland, 
thus  reversing  the  order  of  travel  in  1853,  accepting  the 
use  of  steam  instead  of  the  brawn  of  stalwart  men  and 
Indians  to  propel  the  canoe,  and  arrived  on  the  evening 
of  March  1,  and  on  the  morning  of  the  2nd  pitched  my 
tent  in  the  heart  of  the  city  on  a  beautiful  vacant  lot, 
the  property  of  Jacob  Kamm.  I  remained  in  camp  here 
until  the  morning  of  March  9,  to  test  the  question  of 
securing  aid  for  the  expedition. 

Except  for  the  efforts  of  that  indefatigable  worker, 
George  H.  Himes,  secretary  of  the  Oregon  Pioneer 
Association  since  1886,  and  assistant  secretary  of  the 
Oregon  Historical  Society,  with  headquarters  in  Port- 
land, no  helping  hand  was  extended.  Not  but  that  the 
citizens  took  a  lively  interest  in  the  "novel  undertaking" 
in  this  "unique  outfit,"  yet  the  fact  became  evident  that 
only  the  few  believed  the  work  could  be  successfully 
done  by  individual  effort,  and  that  government  aid  should 
be  invoked.  The  prevailing  opinion  was  voiced  by  a 
prominent  citizen,  a  trustee  of  a  church,  who  voted  against 
allowing  the  use  of  the  church  for  a  lecture  for  the  benefit 
of  the  expedition,  when  he  said  that  he  "did  not  want 
to  do  anything  to  encourage  that  old  man  to  go  out  on 
the  Plains  to  die."  Notwithstanding  this  sentiment, 
through  Mr.  Himes'  efforts  nearly  $200  was  contributed. 

March  10,  at  7 :00  a.  m.,  embarked  at  Portland  on 
the  steamer  Bailey  Gatzert  for  the  Dalles,  which  place 
was  reached  at  night,  but  enlivened  by  a  warm  reception 


312   VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES  OP  EZRA  MEEKER 

from  the  citizens  awaiting  my  arrival,  who  conducted  us 
to  a  camping  place  that  had  been  selected. 

Upon  this  steamer  one  can  enjoy  all  the  luxuries  of 
civilized  life,  a  continuous  trip  now  being  made  through 
the  government  locks  at  the  Cascades.  The  tables  are 
supplied  with  all  the  delicacies  the  season  affords,  with 
clean  linen  for  the  beds,  and  obsequious  attendants  to 
supply  the  wants  of  travelers. 

"What  changes  time  has  wrought,"  I  exclaimed. 
"Can  it  be  the  same  Columbia  River  which  I  traversed 
fifty-four  years  ago?  Yes,  there  are  the  mighty  moun- 
tains, the  wonderful  waterfalls,  the  sunken  forests,  each 
attesting  the  identity  of  the  spot,  but  what  about  the  con- 
ditions?" The  answer  can  be  found  in  the  chapter  else- 
where in  this  work,  "Floating  Down  the  River,"  illus- 
trating the  mighty  changes  of  fifty-six  years,  when  as  an 
emigrant  I  passed  through  this  gap  of  the  Cascades  in  a 
flat  boat,  on  the  waters  of  the  great  river. 

CHAPTER   XXXIX. 

THE    DALLES,     OREGON. 

I  quote  from  my  journal: 

"The  Dalles,  Oregon,  Camp  No.  16,  March  10.— Ar- 
rived last  night  all  in  a  muss,  with  load  out  of  the  wagon, 
but  the  mate  had  his  men  put  the  bed  on,  and  a  number 
of  the  willing  boys  helped  to  tumble  all  loose  articles  into 
the  wagon  while  Goebel  arranged  them,  leaving  the  boxes 
for  a  second  load.  Drove  nearly  three-quarters  of  a  mile 
to  a  camping  ground  near  the  park,  selected  by  the  citi- 
zens; surprised  to  find  the  streets  muddy.  Cattle  im- 
patient and  walked  very  fast,  necessitating  my  tramping 


OUT   ON   THE   TRAIL  313 

through  the  mud  at  their  heads.  Made  second  load  while 
Goebel  put  up  the  tent,  and  went  to  bed  at  10:00  o'clock, 
which  was  as  soon  as  things  were  arranged  for  the  night. 
No  supper  or  even  tea,  as  we  did  not  build  a  fire.  It  was 
clear  last  night,  but  raining  this  morning,  which  turned 
to  sleet  and  snow  at  9:00  o'clock. 

"March  11. — Heavy  wind  last  night  that  threatened 
to  bring  cold  weather;  ice  formed  in  the  camp  half  an 
inch  thick ;  damper  of  stove  out  of  order,  which,  with  the 
wind,  drove  the  smoke  out  of  the  stove  and  filled  the  tent 
full  of  smoke,  making  life  miserable.  In  consequence  of 
the  weather,  the  dedication  ceremonies  were  postponed." 

Prior  to  leaving  home  I  had  written  to  the  ladies  of 
the  landmark  committee  that  upon  my  arrival  at  the 
Dalles  I  would  be  pleased  to  have  their  co-operation  to 
secure  funds  to  erect  a  monument  in  their  city.  What 
should  they  do  but  put  their  heads  together  and  provide 
one  already  inscribed  and  in  place  and  notify  me  that 
I  had  been  selected  to  deliver  the  dedicatory  address,  and 
that  it  was  expected  the  whole  city  would  turn  out  to 
witness  the  ceremonies.  But,  alas,  the  fierce  cold  wind 
spoiled  all  their  well-laid  plans,  for  the  dedication  had 
to  be  postponed.  Finally,  upon  short  notice,  the  stone 
was  duly  dedicated  on  the  12th  of  March,  with  a  few 
hundred  people  in  attendance  with  their  wraps  and  over- 
coats (see  appendix). 

Before  leaving  Seattle  I  had  the  oxen  shod,  for  which 
I  was  charged  the  unmerciful  price  of  $15,  but  they  did 
such  a  poor  job  that  by  the  time  I  arrived  at  The  Dalles 
all  the  shoes  but  one  were  off  the  Dave  ox,  and  several 
lost  off  Twist,  and  the  remainder  loose,  and  so  I  was  com- 


314        VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES   OP  EZRA  MEEKER 

pelled  to  have  the  whole  of  the  work  done  over  again  at 
The  Dalles. 

This  time  the  work  was  well  done,  all  the  shoes  but 
one  staying  on  for  a  distance  of  600  miles,  when  we  threw 
the  Dave  ox  to  replace  the  lost  shoe,  there  being  no  stocks 
at  hand.  The  charge  at  The  Dalles  was  $10,  thus  making 
quite  an  inroad  upon  the  scant  funds  for  the  expedition. 
I  felt  compelled  to  have  them  again  shod  at  Kemmerer, 
Wyoming,  848  miles  out  from  The  Dalles,  but  soon  lost 
several  shoes,  and  finally  at  Pacific  Springs  had  the  miss- 
ing shoes  replaced  by  inexperienced  hands,  who  did  a 
good  job,  though,  for  the  shoes  stayed  on  until  well  worn. 

OUT    FROM    THE    DALLES. 

At  3 :30  p.  m.  on  March  14  I  drove  out  from  The 
Dalles.  I  have  always  felt  that  here  was  the  real  starting 
point,  as  from  here  there  could  be  no  more  shipping,  but 
all  driving.  By  rail,  it  is  1,734  miles  from  The  Dalles  to 
Omaha,  where  our  work  on  the  old  Trail  ends.  By  wagon 
road  the  distance  is  greater,  but  not  much,  probably 
1,800  miles.  The  load  was  heavy  as  well  as  the  roads. 
With  a  team  untrained  to  the  road,  and  one  ox  unbroken, 
and  no  experienced  ox  driver,  and  the  grades  heavy, 
small  wonder  if  a  feeling  of  depression  crept  over  me. 
On  some  long  hills  we  could  move  up  but  one  or  two 
lengths  of  the  wagon  and  team  at  a  time,  and  on  level 
roads,  with  the  least  warm  sum,  the  unbroken  ox  would 
poke  out  his  tongue.  He  was  like  the  young  sprig  just 
out  of  school,  with  muscles  soft  and  breath  short. 

PENDLETON,    OREGON. 

A  fourteen  days'  drive  to  Pendleton,  Oregon,  138^ 
miles,  without  meeting  any  success  in  interesting  people 


OUT   ON  THE   TRAIL  315 

to  help  in  the  work,  was  not  inspiring.  On  this  stretch, 
with  two  assistants,  the  Trail  was  marked  with  boulders 
(see  appendix)  and  cedar  posts  at  intersections  with  trav- 
eled roads,  river  crossings  and  noted  camping  places,  but 
no  center  of  population  was  encountered  until  I  reached 
the  town  of  Pendleton.  Here  the  Commercial  Club  took 
hold  with  a  will,  provided  the  funds  to  inscribe  a  stone 
monument,  which  was  installed,  and  on  the  31st  of  March 
dedicated  it  (see  appendix),  with  over  a  thousand  people 
present.  Here  one  assistant  was  discharged,  the  camera 
and  photo  supplies  stored,  a  small  kodak  purchased,  and 
the  load  otherwise  lightened  by  shipping  tent,  stove,  ster- 
eopticon  and  other  etceteras  over  the  Blue  Mountains  to 
Lae  Grande. 

On  that  evening  I  drove  out  six  miles  to  the  Indian 
school  in  a  fierce  wind  and  rain  storm  that  set  in  soon 
after  the  dedication  ceremonies,  on  my  way  over  the  Blue 
Mountains. 

A  night  in  the  wagon  without  fire  in  cold  weather 
and  with  scant  supper  was  enough  to  cool  one's  ardor; 
but  zero  was  reached  when  the  next  morning  informa- 
tion was  given  out  that  eighteen  inches  of  snow  had  fallen 
on  the  mountains.  However,  with  the  morning  sun  came 
a  warm  reception  from  the  authorities  of  the  school,  a 
room  with  a  stove  in  it  allotted  us,  and  a  command  to 
help  ourselves  to  fuel. 

THE    BLUE    MOUNTAINS. 

Before  this  last  fall  of  snow  some  had  said  it  would 
be  impossible  for  me  to  cross,  while  others  said  it  could  be 
done,  but  that  it  would  be  a  "hard  job."  So  I  thought 
best  to  go  myself,  investigate  on  the  spot,  and  "not  run 


316        VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

my  neck  into  a  halter"  (whatever  that  may  mean)  for 
lack  of  knowing  at  first  hands.  So  that  evening  Meacham 
was  reached  by  rail,  and  I  was  dumped  off  in  the  snow 
near  midnight,  no  visible  light  in  hotel  nor  track  beaten 
to  it,  and  again  the  ardor  was  cold — cool,  cooler,  cold. 

Morning  confirmed  the  story;  twenty  inches  of  snow 
had  fallen,  but  was  settling  fast.  A  sturdy  mountaineer, 
and  one  of  long  experience  and  an  owner  of  a  team,  in 
response  to  my  query  if  he  could  help  me  across  with  his 
team  said,  "Yes,  it's  possible  to  make  it,  but  I  warn  you 
it's  a  hard  job,"  and  so  the  arrangement  was  at  once 
made  that  the  second  morning  after  our  meeting  his  team 
would  leave  Meacham  on  the  way  to  meet  me. 

"But  what  about  a  monument,  Mr.  Burns?"  I  said. 
"Meacham  is  a  historic  place  Avith  Lee's*  encampment  in 
sight." 

"We  have  no  money,"  came  the  quick  reply,  "but 
plenty  of  brawn.  Send  us  a  stone  and  I'll  warrant  you 
the  foundation  will  be  built  and  the  monument  put  in 
place." 

A  belated  train  gave  opportunity  to  return  at  once 
to  Pendleton.  An  appeal  for  aid  to  provide  an  inscribed 
stone  for  Meacham  was  responded  to  with  alacrity,  the 
stone  ordered,  and  a  sound  night's  sleep  followed — ardor 
rising. 

MEACHAM,     OREGON. 

I  quote  from  my  journal:  "Camp  No.  31,  April  4 
(1906).  We  are  now  on  the  snow  line  of  the  Blue  Moun- 
tains (8:00  p.  m.),  and  am  writing  this  by  our  first  real 


*  Jason  Lee,  the  first  missionary  to  the  Oregon  country  with 
four  assistants,  camped  here  in  September,  1834,  at,  as  he  sup- 
posed, the  summit  of  the  Blue  Mountains,  and  ever  after  the  little 
opening  in  the  forests  of  the  mountains  has  been  known  as  Lee's 
encampment. 


OUT   ON   THE   TRAIL,  317 

out-of-door  eampfire,  under  the  spreading  boughs  of  a 
friendly  pine  tree.  We  estimate  have  driv  m  twelve  miles; 
started  from  the  school  at  7:00  (a.  m.)  ;  the  first  three  or 
four  miles  over  a  beautiful  farming  country,  and  then 
began  climbing  the  foothills,  up,  up,  up,  four  miles,  and 
soon  up  again,  reaching  first  snow  at  3:00  o'clock.  The 
long  up-hill  pull  fagged  the  ox  Dave,  so  we  had  to  wait 
on  him,  although  I  had  given  him  an  inch  the  advantage 
on  the  yoke." 

True  to  promise,  the  team  met  us,  but  not  till  we 
had  reached  the  snow,  axle  deep,  and  had  the  shovel  in 
use  to  clear  the  way.  But  by  3  :00  p.  m.  we  were  safely 
encamped  at  Meaeham,  with  the  cheering  news  that  the 
monument  had  arrived  and  could  be  dedicated  the  next 
day,  and  so  the  snowfall  had  proven  a  blessing  in  dis- 
guise, as  otherwise  there  would  not  have  been  a  monu- 
ment provided  for  Meaeham.     Ardor  warming. 

But  the  summit  had  not  been  reached.  The  worst 
tug  lay  ahead  of  us.  Casting  all  thoughts  of  this  from 
mind,  all  hands  turned  to  the  monument,  which  by  11 :00 
o'clock  was  in  place,  the  team  hitched  up,  standing  near 
it,  and  ready  for  the  start  as  soon  as  the  order  was  given. 
Everybody  was  out,  the  little  school  in  a  body,  a  neat 
speech  was  made  by  the  orator  from  Pendleton,  and  the 
two  teams  to  the  one  wagon  moved  on  to  the  front  to 
battle  with  the  snow.  And  it  Avas  a  battle.  We  read  of 
the  "last  straw  that  broke  the  camel's  back."  I  said, 
after  "we  had  gotten  through,  "I  wonder  if  another  flake 
of  snow  would  have  balked  us?"  But  no  one  answered, 
and  I  took  it  for  granted  they  didn't  know.  And  so  we 
went  into  camp  on  the  hither  side  of  the  summit.  Ardo:- 
warming. 


318        VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 
LA    GRANDE,    OREGON. 

The  sunshine  that  was  let  into  our  hearts  at  La 
Grande  (Oregon)  was  refreshing.  "Yes,  we  will  have  a 
monument,"  the  response  came,  and  they  did,  too,  and 
dedicated  it  while  I  tarried.    Ardor  normal. 

LADD'S  CANYON. 

I  again  quote  from  my  journal : 

"Camp  No.  34,  April  11.  We  left  La  Grande  at  7  :30 
(a.  m.)  and  brought  an  inscribed  stone  with  us  to  set  up 
at  an  intersection  near  the  mouth  of  Ladd's  Canyon, 
eight  miles  out  of  La  Grande.  At  1 :00  o'clock  the  school 
near  by  came  in  a  body  and  several  residents  to  see  and 
hear.  The  children  sang  "Columbia,  the  Gem  of  the 
Ocean,"  after  which  I  talked  to  them  for  a  few  moments. 
The  exercises  closed  with  all  singing  "America."  We 
photographed  the  scene  (see  appendix).  Each  child 
brought  a  stone  and  cast  it  upon  the  pile  surrounding  the 
base  of  the  monument." 

CAMP    NO.     34. 

At  this  camp,  on  April  12,  the  Twist  ox  kicked  me 
and  almost  totally  disabled  my  right  leg  for  a  month, 
and  probably  has  resulted  in  permanent  injury.  Much 
had  to  be  left  undone  that  otherwise  would  have  been 
accomplished,  but  I  am  rejoiced  that  it  was  no  worse  and 
thankful  to  the  kind  friends  that  worked  so  ardently  to 
accomplish  what  has  been  done,  an  account  of  which 
follows. 

BAKER    CITY,    OREGON. 

The  citizens  of  Baker  City  lent  a  willing  ear  to  the 
suggestion  to  erect  a  monument  on  the  high  school  ground 


OUT   ON   THE  TRAIL  319 

10  perpetuate  the  memory  of  the  old  Trail  and  to  honor 
the  pioneers  who  made  it,  although  the  trail  is  off  to  the 
north  six  miles.  A  fine  granite  shaft  was  provided  (see 
appendix)  and  dedicated  while  I  tarried,  and  an  in- 
scribed stone  marker  set  in  the  Trail.  Eight  hundred 
school  children  contributed  an  aggregate  of  $60  to  place 
a  children's  bronze  tablet  on  this  shaft.  The  money  for 
this  work  was  placed  in  the  hands  of  the  school  directors. 
Two  thousand  people  participated  in  the  ceremony  of 
dedication  on  the  19th,  and  all  were  proud  of  the  work. 
A  wave  of  genuine  enthusiasm  prevailed,  and  many  of 
the  audience  lingered  long  after  the  exercises  were  over. 
A  photograph  of  the  Old  Timer  (see  appendix)  was 
taken  after  the  ceremonies  of  the  dedication,  and  many  a 
moistened  eye  attested  the  interest  taken  in  the  im- 
promptu reunion. 

OLD     MOUNT     PLEASANT,     OREGON. 

Sixteen  miles  out  from  Baker  City  at  Straw  Ranch, 
set  an  inscribed  stone  at  an  important  intersection.  At 
Old  Mount  Pleasant  I  met  the  owner  of  the  place  where 
I  wanted  to  plant  the  stone  (always,  though,  in  the  public 
highway)  and  asked  him  to  contribute,  but  he  refused  and 
treated  me  with  scant  courtesy.  Thirteen  young  men 
and  one  lady,  hearing  of  the  occurrence,  contributed  the 
cost  of  the  stone  and  $6  extra.  The  tent  was  filled  with 
people  until  9:00  o'clock  at  night.  The  next  day  while 
planting  the  stone,  five  young  lads  came  along,  stripped 
off  their  coats,  and  labored  with  earnestness  until  the  work 
was  finished  (see  appendix).  I  note  these  incidents  to 
show  the  interest  taken  by  the  people  at  large,  of  all 
classes. 


320        VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 
DURKEE,    OREGON. 

The  people  of  Durkee  had  "heard  what  was  going 
on  down  the  line,"  and  said  they  were  ready  to  provide 
the  funds  for  a  monument.  One  was  ordered  from  the 
granite  works  at  Baker  City,  and  in  due  time  was  dedi- 
cated, but  unfortunately  I  have  no  photograph  of  it.  The 
stone  was  planted  in  the  old  Trail  on  the  principal  street 
of  the  village. 

HUNTINGTON. 

Huntington  came  next  in  the  track  where  the  Trail 
ran,  and  here  a  granite  monument  was  erected  and  dedi- 
cated while  I  tarried,  for  which  the  citizens  willingly  con- 
tributed. Here  seventy-six  school  children  contributed 
their  dimes  and  half-dimes,  aggregating  over  $4. 

After  the  experience  in  Baker  City,  Oregon,  where, 
as  already  related,  800  children  contributed,  and  at  Boise, 
Idaho,  to  be  related  later,  over  a  thousand  laid  down 
their  offerings,  I  am  convinced  that  this  feature  of  the 
work  is  destined  to  give  great  results.  It  is  not  the  finan- 
cial aid  I  refer  to,  but  the  effect  it  has  upon  children's 
minds  to  set  them  to  thinking  of  this  subject  of  patriotic 
sentiment  that,  will  endure  in  after  life.  Each  child  in 
Baker  City,  or  in  Huntington,  or  Boise,  or  other  places 
where  these  contributions  have  been  made,  feel  they  have 
a  part  ownership  in  the  shaft  they  helped  to  pay  for,  and 
a  tender  care  for  it,  that  will  grow  stronger  as  the  child 
grows  older. 

VALE,    OREGON. 

It  was  not  a  question  at  Vale,  Oregon,  as  to  whether 
they  would  erect  a  monument,  but  as  to  what  kind,  that 


OUT   ON   THE   TRAIL  321 

is,  what  kind  of  stone.  Local  pride  prevailed,  and  a  shaft 
was  erected  out  of  local  material,  which  was  not  so  suit- 
able as  granite,  but  the  spirit  of  the  people  was  mani- 
fested. Exactly  seventy  children  contributed  to  the  fund 
for  erecting  this  monument,  (which  was  placed  on  the 
court  house  grounds,)  and  participated  in  the  exercises 
of  dedication  on  April  30. 

CHAPTER  XL. 

OLD    FORT    BOISE. 

Erecting  a  monument  in  Vale,  as  related  in  the  last 
chapter,  finished  the  work  in  Oregon,  as  we  soon  crossed 
Snake  river  just  below  the  mouth  of  Boise,  and  were 
landed  on  the  historic  spot  of  Old  Fort  Boise,  established 
by  the  Hudson  Bay  Company  in  September,  1834.  This 
fort  was  established  for  the  purpose  of  preventing  the 
success  of  the  American  venture  at  Fort  Hall,  a  post  es- 
tablished earlier  in  1834  by  Nathaniel  J.  Wyethe. 
Wyethe's  venture  proved  disastrous,  and  the  fort  soon 
passed  into  his  rival's  hands,  the  Hudson  Bay  Company, 
thus  for  the  time  being  securing  undisputed  British  rule 
for  the  whole  of  that  vast  region  later  known  as  the  In- 
land Empire,  then,  the  Oregon  Country. 

Some  relics  of  the  old  fort  at  Boise  were  secured,  ar- 
rangements made  for  planting  a  double  inscribed  stone 
to  mark  the  site  of  the  fort  and  the  Trail,  and  afterwards, 
through  the  liberality  of  the  citizens  of  Boise  City,  a 
stone  was  ordered  and  doubtless  before  this  put  in  place. 

PARMA,    IDAHO. 

The  first  town  encountered  in  Idaho  was  Parma, 
where  the  contributions  warranted  shipping  an  inscribed 


322   VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

stone  from  Boise  City,  which  was  done,  and  is  doubtless 
ere  this  in  place,  but  no  photograph  of  it  is  at  hand. 

BOISE,     IDAHO. 

At  Boise,  the  capital  city  of  Idaho,  there  were  nearly 
1,200  contributions  to  the  monument  fund  by  the  pupils 
of  the  public  schools,  each  child  signing  his  or  her  name 
to  the  roll,  showing  the  school  and  grade  to  which  the 
child  belonged.  These  rolls  with  printed  headlines  were 
collected,  bound  together,  and  deposited  with  the  archives 
of  the  Pioneer  Society  historical  collection  for  future  ref- 
erence and  as  a  part  of  the  history  of  the  monument. 
Each  child  was  given  a  signed  certificate  showing  the 
amount  of  the  contribution.  The  monument  stands  on 
the  state  house  grounds  and  is  inscribed  as  the  children's 
offering  to  the  memory  of  the  pioneers.  Over  three  thou- 
sand people  attended  the  dedication  service. 

The  citizens  of  Boise  also  paid  for  the  stone  planted 
on  the  site  of  the  old  fort  and  also  for  one  planted  on 
the  Trail,  near  the  South  Boise  school  buildings,  all  of 
which  were  native  granite  shafts,  of  which  there  is  a  large 
supply  in  the  quarries  of  Idaho  very  suitable  for  such 
work. 

TWIN   PALLS,    IDAHO. 

At  Twin  Falls,  537  miles  out  from  The  Dalles,  funds 
were  contributed  to  place  an  inscribed  stone  in  the  track 
of  the  old  Trail  a  mile  from  the  city,  and  a  granite  shaft 
was  accordingly  ordered. 

AMERICAN  FALLS,  IDAHO. 

Upon  my  arrival  at  American  Falls,  Idaho,  649  miles 
out  from  The  Dalles,  a  combination  was  quickly  formed 


OUT   ON   THE  TRAIL.  323 

to  erect  a  cement  shaft  twelve  feet  high  to  plant  in  the 
track  of  the  Trail,  and  a  park  was  to  be  dedicated  where 
the  monument  is  to  stand  and  a  section  of  the  old  Trail 
preserved. 

POCATELLO,    IDAHO. 

The  Ladies'  Study  Club  has  undertaken  the  work  of 
erecting  a  monument  at-Pocatello,  Idaho,  676  miles  out 
from  The  Dalles.  I  made  twenty-three  addresses  to  the 
school  children  on  behalf  of  the  work  before  leaving,  and 
have  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  the  undertaking  has  been 
vigorously  prosecuted,  and  that  a  fine  monument  has 
been  placed  on  the  high  school  grounds. 

SODA    SPRINGS,    IDAHO. 

At  Soda  Springs,  739  miles  from  The  Dalles,  the  next 
place  where  an  attempt  was  made  to  erect  a  monument, 
a  committee  of  citizens  undertook  the  work,  collected  the 
funds  to  erect  a  monument  by  one  of  those  beautiful  bub- 
bling soda  springs,  which  is  in  the  park  and  on  the  Trail. 

MONTPELIER,     IDAHO. 

Montpelier  proved  no  exception  to  what  apparently 
had  become  the  rule.  A  committee  of  three  was  appointed 
by  the  Commercial  Club  to  take  charge  of  the  work  of 
erecting  a  monument,  a  contribution  from  members  and 
citizens  solicited,  nearly  $30  collected  and  paid  into  the 
bank,  and  arrangements  made  for  increasing  the  contri- 
butions and  completing  the  monument  were  made  before 
the  team  arrived.  A  pleasant  feature  of  the  occasion  was 
the  calling  of  a  meeting  of  the  Woman's  Club  at  the  Hun- 
ter Hotel,  where  I  was  stopping,  and  a  resolution  passed 
to  thoroughly  canvass  the  town  for  aid  in  the  work,  and 
to  interest  the  school  children. 


324    VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  EZRA  MEEKER 
THE  MAD  BUEE. 

I  quote  from  my  journal: 

"June  7,  up  at  4:30;  started  at  ;">::}();  arrived  at 
Montpelier  11:00  a.  in.  *  *  *  A  dangerous  and  excit- 
ing incident  occurred  this  forenoon  when  a  vicious  bull 
attacked  the  team,  first  from  one  side  and  then  the  other, 
getting  in  between  the  oxen  and  causing  them  to  nearly 
upset  the  wagon.  I  was  finally  thrown  down  in  the 
melee,  but  escaped  unharmed,"  and  it  was  a  narrow  es- 
cape from  being  run  over  both  by  team  and  wagon. 

THE  WOUNDED  BUFFALO. 

This  incident  reminded  me  of  a  "scrape"  one  of  our 
neighboring  trains  got  into  on  the  Platte  in  1852  with  a 
wounded  buffalo.  The  train  had  encountered  a  large  herd 
feeding  and  traveling  at  right  angles  to  the  road.  The 
older  heads  of  the  party,  fearing  a  stampede  of  their  teams, 
had  given  orders  not  to  molest  the  buffaloes,  but  to  give 
their  whole  attention  to  the  care  of  the  teams.  But  one 
impulsive  young  fellow  would  not  be  restrained,  and 
fired  into  the  herd  and  wounded  a  large  bull.  Either  in 
anger  or  from  confusion,  the  mad  bull  charged  upon  a 
wagon  filled  with  women  and  children  and  drawn  by 
a  team  of  mules.  He  became  entangled  in  the  harness 
and  on  the  tongue  between  the  mules.  An  eye-witness 
<] escribed  the  scene  as  "exciting  for  a  while."  It  would 
be  natural  for  the  women  to  scream,  the  children  to  cry, 
and  the  men  to  halloa,  but  the  practical  question  was 
how  to  dispatch  the  bull  without  shooting  the  mules  as 
well.  What,  with  multiplicity  of  counsel,  the  independ- 
ent action  of  everyone,  each  having  a  plan  of  his  own, 
there  seemed  certain  to  be  some  fatalities  from  the  <?un- 


OUT   ON   THE   TRAIL,  3  25 

shots  of  the  large  crowd  of  trainmen  who  had  forgot- 
ten their  own  teams  and  rushed  to  the  wagon  in  trouble. 
As  in  this  incident  of  my  own,  just  related,  nothing  was 
harmed,  but  when  it  was  over  all  agreed  it  was  past  un- 
derstanding how  it  came  about  there  was  no  loss  of  life 
or  bodily  injury. 

COKEVILLE,    WYOMING. 

Cokeville,  800%  miles  out  on  the  Trail  from  The 
Dalles,,  and  near  the  junction  of  the  Sublette  cut-off  with 
the  more  southerly  trail,  resolved  to  have  a  monument, 
and  arrangements  were  completed  for  erecting  one  of 
stone  from  a  nearby  quarry  that  will  bear  witness  for 
many  centuries. 

CHAPTER  XLI. 

THE   ROCKY   MOUNTAINS. 

From  Cokeville  to  Pacific  Springs,  just  west  of  the 
summit  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  at  South  Pass,  by  the 
road  and  trail  we  traveled,  is  158  miles.  Ninety  miles  of 
this  stretch  is  away  from  the  sound  of  the  locomotive, 
the  click  of  the  telegraph  or  the  hello  girl.  It  is  a  great 
extension  of  that  grand  mountain  range,  the  Rockies, 
from  six  to  seven  thousand  feet  above  sea  level,  with  scant 
vegetable  growth,  and  almost  a  solitude  as  to  habitation, 
save  as  here  and  there  a  sheep-herder  or  his  typical  wagon 
might  be  discovered.  The  bold  coyote,  the  simple  ante- 
lope, and  the  cunning  sage  hen  still  hold  their  sway  as 
they  did  fifty-four  years  before,  when  I  first  traversed 
the  country.    The  Old  Trail  is  there  in  all  its  grandeur. 

"Why  mark  that  Trail?"  I  exclaim.    Miles  and  miles 


326        VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

of  it  worn  so  deep  that  centuries  of  storm  will  not 
efface  it ;  generations  may  pass  and  the  origin  of  the  Trail 
become  a  legend,  but  the  marks  will  be  there  to  perplex 
the  wondering  eyes  of  those  who  people  the  continent  cen- 
turies hence,  aye,  a  hundred  centuries,  I  am  ready  to  say. 
We  wonder  to  see  it  worn  fifty  feet  wide  and  three  feet 
deep,  and  hasten  to  take  snap  shots  at  it  with  kodak  and 
camera.  But  what  about  it  later,  after  we  are  over  the 
crest  of  the  mountain?  We  see  it  a  hundred  feet  wide 
and  fifteen  feet  deep,  where  the  tramp  of  thousands  upon 
thousands  of  men  and  women,  and  the  hoofs  of  millions 
of  animals  and  the  wheels  of  untold  numbers  of  vehicles 
have  loosened  the  soil  and  the  fierce  winds  have  carried 
it  away,  and  finally  we  find  ruts  a  foot  deep  worn  into 
the  solid  rock. 

"What  a  mighty  movement,  this,  over  the  Old  Ore- 
gon Trail!"  we  exclaim  time  and  again,  each  time  with 
greater  wonderment  at  the  marvels  yet  to  be  seen,  and 
hear  the  stories  of  the  few  yet  left  of  those  who  suffered 
on  this  great  highway. 

Nor  do  we  escape  from  this  solitude  of  the  western 
slope  till  we  have  traveled  150  miles  east  from  the  sum- 
mit, when  the  welcome  black  smoke  of  the  locomotive  is 
seen  in  the  distanc'e,  at  Casper,  a  stretch  of  250  miles  of 
primitive  life  of  "ye  olden  times"  of  fifty  years  ago. 

Nature's  freaks  in  the  Rocky  Mountains  are  beyond 
my  power  of  description.  We  catch  sight  of  one  a  few 
miles  west  of  the  Little  Sandy  (see  appendix)  without 
name.  We  venture  to  call  it  Tortoise  Rock,  from  the  re- 
semblance to  that  reptile,  with  head  erect  and  extended, 
as  seen  in  the  illustration.  Farther  on,  as  night  approaches, 


OUT   ON   THE   TRAIL,  327 

we  are  in  the  presence  of  animals  unused  to  the  sight  of 
man.    I  quote  from  my  journal: 

PACIFIC  SPRINGS. 

Pacific  Springs,  Wyoming,  Camp  No.  79,  June  20, 
1906,  odometer  958  (miles  from  The  Dalles,  Oregon). 
Arrived  at  6:00  P.  M.,  and  camped  near  Halter's  store 
and  the  P.  0. ;  ice  formed  in  camp  during  the  night. 

Camp  No.  79,  June  21.  Remained  in  camp  all  day 
and  got  down  to  solid  work  on  my  new  book,  the  title 
of  which  is  not  yet  developed  in  my  mind. 

Camp  No.  79,  June  22.  Remained  in  camp  all  day 
at  Pacific  Springs  and  searched  for  a  suitable  stone  for  a 
monument  to  be  placed  on  the  summit.  After  almost  de- 
spairing, came  to  exactly  what  was  wanted,  and,  although 
alone  on  the  mountain  side,  exclaimed,  "That  is  what  I 
want;  that's  it."  So  a  little  later,  after  procuring  help, 
we  turned  it  over  to  find  that  both  sides  were  flat ;  with 
26  inches  face  and  15  inches  thick  at  one  end  and  14 
inches  wide  and  12  inches  thick  at  the  other,  one  of 
Nature's  own  handiwork,  as  if  made  for  this  very  pur- 
pose, to  stand  on  the  top  of  the  mountains  for  the  cen- 
turies to  come  to  perpetuate  the  memory  of  the  genera- 
tions that  have  passed.  I  think  it  is  granite  formation, 
but  is  mixed  with  quartz  at  large  end  and  very  hard. 
Replaced  three  shoes  on  the  Twist  ox  and  one  on  Dave 
immediately  after  dinner,  and  hitched  the  oxen  to  Mr. 
Halter's  wagon,  and  with  the  help  of  four  men  loaded 
the  stone,  after  having  dragged  it  on  the  ground  and 
rocks  a  hundred  yards  or  so  down  the  mountain  side ; 
estimated  weight,  1,000  pounds. 

Camp  No.  79,  June  23.    Remained  here  in  camp  while 


32  8   VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

inscribing  the  monument.  There  being  no  stone  cutter 
here,  the  clerk  of  the  store  formed  the  letters  on  stiff 
paste  boards  and  then  cut  them  out  to  make  a  paper  sten- 
cil, after  which  the  shape  of  the  letters  was  transformed 
to  the  stone  by  crayon  marks.  The  letters  were  then  cut 
out  with  the  cold  chisel  deep  enough  to  make  a  perma- 
nent inscription.  The  stone  is  so  very  hard  that  it  re- 
quired steady  work  all  day  to  cut  the  twenty  letters  and 
figures,  "The  Old  Oregon  Trail,  1843-47." 

Camp  80,  June  24,  odometer  970y2.  At  3:00  o'clock 
this  afternoon  erected  the  monument  described  on  the 
summit  of  the  South  pass  at  a  point  on  the  Trail  de- 
scribed by  John  Linn,  civil  engineer,  at  42.21  north  lati- 
tude, 108.53  west  longitude,  bearing  N.  47,  E.  240  feet 
from  the  y^  corner  between  sections  4  and  5,  T.  27  N.,  R. 
101  W.  of  the  6th  P.  M.  Elevation  as  determined  by 
aneroid  reading  June  24,  1906,  is  7450. 

"Mr.  Linn  informs  me  the  survey  for  an  irrigation 
ditch  to  take  the  waters  of  the  Sweetwater  river  from  the 
east  slope  of  the  range,  through  the  South  pass,  to  the 
west  side,  runs  within  a  hundred  feet  of  the  monument. 

We  drove  out  of  Pacific  Springs  at  12 :30,  stopped 
at  the  summit  to  dedicate  the  monument  (see  appendix), 
and  at  3  :40  left  the  summit  and  drove  twelve  miles  to  this 
point,  called  Oregon  Slough,  and  put  up  the  tent  after 
dark." 

The  reader  may  think  of  the  South  Pass  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains  as  a  percipitous  defile  through  narrow  canyons 
and  deep  gorges,  but  nothing  is  farther  from  the  fact 
than  such  imagined  conditions.  One  can  drive  through 
this  pass  for  several  miles  without  realizing  he  has  passed 
the  dividing  line  between  the.  waters  of  the  Pacific  on  the 


OUT   ON   THE   TRAIL  329 

one  side  and  of  the  Gulf  of  Mexico  on  the  other,  while 
traveling  over  a  broad,  open,  undulating  prairie  the  ap- 
proach is  by  easy  grades  and  the  descent  (going  east) 
scarcely  noticeable. 

Certainly,  if  my  memory  is  worth  anything,  in  1852, 
some  of  our  party  left  the  road  but  a  short  distance  to 
find  banks  of  drifted  snow  in  low  places  in  July,  but  none 
was  in  sight  on  the  level  of  the  road  as  we  came  along  in 
June  of  1906.  This  was  one  of  the  landmarks  that  looked 
familiar,  as  all  who  were  toiling  west  looked  upon  this  spot 
as  the  turning  point  in  their  journey,  and  that  they  had 
left  the  worst  of  the  trip  behind  them, — poor,  innocent 
souls  as  we  were,  not  realizing  that  our  mountain  climbing 
in  the  way  of  rough  roads  only  began  a  long  way  out 
west  of  the  summit  of  the  Rockies. 

SWEETWATER. 

The  sight  of  Sweetwater  River,  twenty  miles  out  from 
the  pass,  revived  many  pleasant  memories  and  some  that 
were  sad.  I  could  remember  the  sparkling,  clear  water, 
the  green  skirt  of  undergrowth  along  the  banks  and  the 
restful  camps  as  we  trudged  along  up  the  streams  so 
many  years  ago.  And  now  I  see  the  same  channel,  the 
same  hills,  and  apparently  the  same  waters  swiftly  pass- 
ing ;  but  where  are  the  camp-fires ;  where  the  herd  of 
gaunt  cattle;  where  the  sound  of  the  din  of  bells;  the  hal- 
lowing for  lost  children;  the  cursing  of  irate  ox  drivers; 
the  pleading  for  mercy  from  some  humane  dame  for  the 
half-famished  dumb  brute ;  the  harsh  sounds  from  some 
violin  in  camp ;  the  merry  shouts  of  children ;  or  the  little 
groups  off  on  the  hillside  to  bury  the  dead?  All  gone. 
An  oppressive  silence  prevailed  as  we  drove  down  to  the 


330        VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

river  and  pitched  our  camp  within  a  few  feet  of  the  bank 
where  we  could  hear  the  rippling  waters  passing  and  see 
the  fish  leaping  in  the  eddies.  We  had  our  choice  of  a 
camping  place  just  by  the  skirt  of  refreshing  green 
brush  Avith  an  opening  to  give  full  view  of  the  river.  Not 
so  in  '52  with  hundreds  of  camps  ahead  of  you.  One 
must  take  what  he  could  get,  and  that  in  many  cases  would 
be  far  back  from  the  water  and  removed  from  other  con- 
veniences. 

The  sight  and  smell  of  the  carrion  so  common  in 
camping  places  in  our  first  trip  was  gone ;  no  bleached 
bones  even  showed  where  the  exhausted  dumb  brute  had 
died ;  the  graves  of  the  dead  emigrants  had  all  been  leveled 
by  the  hoofs  of  stock  and  the  lapse  of  time.  "What  a 
mighty  change !"  I  exclaimed.  We  had  been  following  the 
old  Trail  for  nearly  150  miles  on  the  west  slope  of  the 
mountains  with  scarce  a  vestige  of  civilization.  Out  of 
sight  and  hearing  of  railroads,  telegraphs,  or  telephones 
and  nearly  a  hundred  miles  without  a  postoffice.  It  is  a 
misnomer  to  call  it  a  "slope."  It  is  nearly  as  high  an 
altitude  a  hundred  miles  west  of  the  summit  as  the  sum- 
mit itself.  The  country  remains  as  it  was  fifty-four  years 
before.  The  Trail  is  there  to  be  seen  miles  and  miles 
ahead,  worn  bare  and  deep,  with  but  one  narrow  track 
where  there  used  to  be  a  dozen,  and  with  the  beaten 
path  so  solid  that  vegetation  has  not  yet  recovered  from 
the  scourge  of  passing  hoofs  and  tires  of  wagons  years 
ago. 

As  in  1852  when  the  summit  was  passed  I  felt  that 
my  task  was  much  more  than  half  done,  though  the  dis- 
tance was  scarcely  compassed.  I  felt  we  were  entitled  to 
a  rest  even  though  it  was  a  solitude,  and  so  our  prepara- 


OUT   ON  THE   TRAIL  331 

tions  were  made  for  two  days'  rest  if  not  recreation.  The 
two  days  passed  and  we  saw  but  three  persons.  We 
traveled  a  week  on  this  stretch,  to  encounter  five  persons 
only,  and  to  see  but  one  wagon,  but  our  guide  to  point 
the  way  was  at  hand  all  the  time — a  pioneer  way  a  hun- 
dred feet  wide  and  in  places  ten  feet  deep,  we  could  not 
mistake.  Our  way  from  this  Camp  81  on  Sweetwater  led 
us  from  the  river  and  over  hills  for  fifty  miles  before  we 
were  back  to  the  river  again.  Not  so  my  Trail  of  '52,  for 
then  we  followed  the  river  closer  and  crossed  it  several 
times,  while  part  of  the  people  went  over  the  hills  and 
made  the  second  trail.  It  was  on  this  last  stretch  we  set 
our  1,000-mile  post  as  we  reached  the  summit  of  a  very 
long  hill,  eighteen  miles  west  of  where  we  again  encoun- 
tered the  river,  saw  a  telegraph  line,  and  a  road  where 
more  than  one  wagon  a  week  passed  as  like  that  we  had 
been  following  so  long. 

SPLIT    ROCK. 

I  quote  from  my  journal : 

Camp  No.  85,  June  30,  odometer  1,044. 

''About  ten  o'clock  encountered  a  large  number  of 
big  flies  that  ran  the  cattle  nearly  wild.  We  fought  them 
off  as  best  we  could.  I  stood  on  the  wagon  tongue  for 
miles  so  I  could  reach  them  with  the  whip-stock.  The 
cattle  were  so  excited,  we  did  not  stop  at  noon,  finding 
water  on  the  way,  but  drove  on  through  by  two-thirty  and 
camped  at  a  farmhouse,  the  Split  Rock  postoffice,  the  first 
we  had  found  since  leaving  Pacific  Springs,  the  other  side 
of  the  summit  of  South  Pass  and  eighty-five  miles  dis- 
tant." 

"Split  Rock"  postoffice  derives  its  name  from  a  rift 


332        VENTURES   AND   ADVENTURES   OF   EZRA   MEEKER 

in  the  mountain  a  thousand  feet  or  more  high,  as  though 
a  part  of  the  range  had  been  bodily  moved  a  rod  or  so, 
leaving  this  perpendicular  chasm  through  the  range, 
which  was  narrow. 

THE    DEVIL'S    GATE. 

The  Devil's  Gate  and  Independence  Rock,  a  few 
miles  distant,  are  probably,  the  two  best  known  land- 
marks on  the  Trail, — the  one  for  its  grotesque  and 
striking  scenic  effect.  Here,  as  at  Split  Rock,  the 
mountain  seems  as  if  it  had  been  split  apart,  leaving  an 
opening  a  few  rods  wide,  through  which  the  Sweetwater 
River  pours  a  veritable  torrent.  The  river  first  approaches 
to  within  a  few  hundred  feet  of  the  gap,  and  then  suddenly 
curves  away  from  it,  and  after  winding  through  the  valley 
for  a  half  mile  or  so,  a  quarter  of  a  mile  distant,  it  takes  a 
straight  shoot  and  makes  the  plunge  through  the  canyon. 
Those  who  Lave  had  the  impression  they  drove  their  teams 
through  this  gap  are  mistaken,  for  it's  a  feat  no  mortal 
man  has  done  or  can  do,  any  more  than  they  could  drive 
up  the  falls  of  the  Niagara. 

This  year,  on  my  1906  trip,  I  did  clamber  through  on 
the  left  bank,  over  boulders  head  high,  under  shelving 
rocks  where  the  sparrows'  nests  were  in  full  possession, 
and  ate  some  ripe  gooseberries  from  the  bushes  growing 
on  the  border  of  the  river,  and  plucked  some  beautiful 
wild  roses, — this  on  the  second  day  of  July,  A.  D.  1906.  I 
wonder  why  those  wild  roses  grow  there  where  nobody 
will  see  them?  Why  these  sparrows' nests?  Why  did  this 
river  go  through  this  gorge  instead  of  breaking  the  bar- 
rier a  little  to  the  south  where  the  easy  road  runs?  These 
questions  run  through  my  mind,  and  why  I  know  not.    The 


OUT   ON   THE   TRAIL  338 

gap  through  the  mountains  looked  familiar  as  I  spied  it 
from  the  distance,  but  the  road-bed  to  the  right  I  had  for- 
gotten. I  longed  to  see  this  place,  for  here,  somewhere 
under  the  sands,  lies  all  that  was  mortal  of  a  brother,  Clark 
Meeker,  drowned  in  the  Sweetwater  in  1854  while  at- 
tempting to  cross  the  Plains;  would  I  be  able  to  see  and 
identitfy  the  grave  ?    No. 

I  quote  from  my  journal : 

"Camp  No.  86,  July  2,  odometer  1059.  This  camp 
is  at  Tom  Sun's  place,  the  Sun  postoffice,  Wyoming,  and 
is  in  Sec.  35,  T.  29  N.  R.  97,  6  P.  M.,  and  it  is  one-half 
mile  to  the  upper  end  of  the  Devil's  Gate  (see  appendix), 
through  which  the  Sweetwater  runs.  The  passage  is  not 
more  than  100  feet  wide  and  is  1300  feet  through  with 
walls  483  feet  at  highest  point.  The  altitude  is  5860.27, 
according  to  the  United  States  geological  survey  marks. 
It  is  one  of  nature's  marvels,  this  rift  in  the  mountain  to 
let  the  waters  of  the  Sweetwater  through.  Mr.  Tom  Sun, 
or  Thompson,  has  lived  here  thirty  odd  years  and  says 
there  are  numerous  graves  of  the  dead  pioneers,  but  all 
have  been  leveled  by  the  tramp  of  stock,  225.000  head  of 
cattle  alone  having  passed  over  the  Trail  in  1882  and  in 
some  single  years  over  a  half  million  sheep.  But  the 
Trail  is  deserted  now,  and  scarcely  five  wagons  pass  in  a 
week,  with  part  of  the  road-bed  grown  up  in  grass.  That 
mighty  movement, — tide  shall  we  call  it — of  suffering 
humanity  first  going  west,  accompanied  and  afterwards 
followed  by  hundreds  of  thousands  of  stock,  with  the 
mightier  ebb  of  millions  upon  millions  of  returning  cattle 
and  sheep  going  east,  has  all  ceased,  and  now  the  road  is 
a  solitude  save  a  few  straggling  wagons,  or  here  and 
there  a  local  flock  driven  to  pasture.    No  wonder  that  we 


334        VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

looked  in  vain  for  the  graves  of  the  dead  with  this  great 
throng  passing  and  repassing. 

A  pleasant  little  anecdote  is  told  by  his  neighbors  of 
the  odd  name  of  "Tom  Sun,"  borne  by  that  sturdy  yeo- 
man (a  Swede,  I  think),  and  of  whose  fame  for  fair 
dealing  and  liberality  I  could  hear  upon  all  sides.  The 
stoiy  runs  that  when  he  first  went  to  the  bank,  then  and 
now  sixty  miles  away,  to  deposit,  the  cashier  asked  his 
name  and  received  the  reply  Thompson,  emphasizing  the 
last  syllable  pronounced  with  so  much  emphasis,  that  it 
was  written  Tom  Sun,  and  from  necessity  a  check  had  to 
be  so  signed,  thus  making  that  form  of  spelling  generally 
known,  and  finally  it  was  adopted  as  the  name  of  the 
postoffice. 

CHAPTER  XLII. 

INDEPENDENCE  ROCK. 

"Camp  No.  87,  July  3,  1906,  odometer  1065,  Indepen- 
dence Rock.  We  drove  over  to  the  'Rock,'  from  the 
'Devil's  Gate,'  a  distance  of  six  miles,  and  camped  at 
10  :00  o  'clock  for  the  day. 

Not  being  conversant  with  the  work  done  by  others  to 
perpetuate  their  names  on  this  famous  boulder  that  covers 
about  thirty  acres,  we  groped  our  way  among  the  inscrip- 
tions to  find  some  of  them  nearly  obliterated  and  many 
legible  only  in  part,  showing  how  impotent  the  efforts  of 
individuals  to  perpetuate  the  memory  of  their  own  names, 
and,  may  I  add,  how  foolish  it  is,  in  most  cases,  forgetting, 
as  these  individuals  have,  that  it  is  actions,  not  words,  even 
if  engraved  upon  stone,  that  carry  one's  name  down  to 
future  generations.    We  walked  all  the  away  around  the 


OUT   ON   THE   TRAIL,  336 

stone,  which  was  nearly  a  mile  around,  of  irregular  shape, 
and  over  a  hundred  feet  high,  the  walls  being  so  precipit- 
ous as  to  prevent  ascending  to  the  top  except  in  two  van- 
tage points.  Unfortunately,  we  missed  the  Fremont  in- 
scription made  in  1842. 

Of  this  inscription  Fremont  writes  in  his  journal: 
'August  23  (1842),  yesterday  evening  we  reached  our 
encampment  at  Rock  Independence,  where  I  took  some 
astronomical  observations.  Here,  not  unmindful  of  the 
custom  of  early  travelers  and  explorers  in  our  country,  I 
engraved  on  this  rock  of  the  Far  "West  a  symbol  of  the 
Christian  faith.  Among  the  thickly  inscribed  names,  I 
made  on  the  hard  granite  the  impression  of  a  large  cross, 
which  I  covered  with  a  black  preparation  of  India  rubber, 
well  calculated  to  resist  the  influences  of  the  wind  and 
rain.  It  stands  amidst  the  names  of  many  who  have  long 
since  found  their  way  to  the  grave,  and  for  whom  the 
huge  rock  is  a  giant  gravestone.' 

"One  George  "Weymouth  was  sent  out  to  Maine  by  the 
Earl  of  Southampton,  Lord  Arundel,  and  others;  and  in 
the  narrative  of  their  discoveries  he  says:  'The  next  day 
we  ascended  in  our  pinnace  that  part  of  the  river  which 
lies  more  to  the  westward,  carrying  with  us  a  cross — a 
thing  never  omitted  by  any  Christian  traveler — which  we 
erected  at  the  ultimate  end  of  our  route.'  This  was  in 
the  year  1605;  and  in  1842  I  obeyed  the  feeling  of  early 
travelers,  and  I  left  the  impression  of  the  cross  deeply 
engraved  on  the  vast  rock  1,000  miles  beyond  the  Mis- 
sissippi, to  which  discoverers  have  given  the  national 
name  of  Rock  Independence." 

The  reader  will  note  that  Fremont  writes  in  1842  of 
the  name,  "to  which  discoverers  have  given  the  national 


336        VENTURES   AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

name  of  Independence  Rock,"  showing  that  the  name  of 
the  rock  long  antedated  his  visit,  as  he  had  inscribed  the 
cross  "amidst  the  names  of  many." 

Of  recent  years  the  traveled  road  leads  to  the  left  of 
the  rock,  going  eastward,  instead  of  to  the  right  and 
nearer  the  left  bank  of  the  Sweetwater  as  in  early  years; 
and  so  I  selected  a  spot  on  the  westward  sloping  face  of 
the  stone  for  the  inscription,  "Old  Oregon  Trail,  1843-57," 
near  the  present  traveled  road  where  people  can  see  it,  as 
shown  in  the  appendix,  and  inscribed  it  with  as  deep 
cut  letters  as  we  could  make  with  a  dulled  cold  chisel, 
and  painted  the  sunken  letters  with  the  best  sign  writer's 
paint  in  oil.  On  this  expedition,  where  possible,  I  have 
in  like  manner  inscribed  a  number  of  boulders,  with  paint 
only,  which  it  is  to  be  hoped,  before  the  life  of  the  paint 
has  gone  out,  may  find  loving  hands  to  inscribe  deep  into 
th"  stone;  but  here  on  this  huge  boulder  I  hope  the  in- 
scription may  last  for  centuries,  though  not  as  deeply  cut 
as  I  would  have  liked  had  we  but  had  suitable  tools. 

FISH    CREEK. 

Eleven  miles  out  from  Independence  Rock  we  nooned 
on  the  bank  of  a  small  stream,  well  named  Fish  Creek, 
for  it  literally  swarmed  with  fish  of  suitable  size  for  the 
pan,  but  they  would  not  bite,  and  we  had  no  appliances 
for  catching  with  a  net,  and  so  consoled  ourselves  with 
the  exclamation  they  were  suckers  only,  and  we  didn't 
care,  but  I  came  away  with  the  feeling  that  maybe  we 
were  "suckers"  ourselves  for  having  wet  a  blanket  in 
an  attempt  to  seine  them,  getting  into  the  water  over  boot 
top  deep,  and  working  all  the  noon  hour  instead  of  resting 
like  an  elderly  person  should,  and  as  the  oxen  did. 


OUT   ON   THE   TRAIL,  337 

NORTH  PLATTE  RIVER. 

Our  next  camp  brought  us  to  the  North  Platte  River, 
fifteen  miles  above  the  town  of  Casper. 

I  quote  from  my  journal : 

"Camp  No.  89,  North  Platte  River,  July  5,  1906, 
odometer  1104,   distance  traveled  twenty-two  miles. 

"We  followed  the  old  Trail  till  nearly  4:00  p.  m., 
and  then  came  to  the  forks  of  the  traveled  road,  with  the 
Trail  untraveled  by  any  one  going  straight  ahead  between 
the  two  roads.  I  took  the  right  hand  road,  fearing  the 
other  led  off  north,  and  anyway  the  one  taken  would 
lead  us  to  the  North  Platte  River;  and  on  the  old  Trail 
there  would  be  no  water,  as  we  were  informed,  until  we 
reached  Casper.  We  did  not  arrive  at  the  Platte  River 
until  after  dark,  and  then  found  there  was  no  feed;  got 
some  musty  alfalfa  hay  the  cattle  would  not  eat;  had  a 
little  cracked  corn  we  had  hauled  nearly  300  miles  from 
Kemmerer,  and  had  fed  them  the  last  of  it  in  the  after- 
noon; went  to  bed  in  the  wagon,  first  watering  the  cattle, 
after  dark,  from  the  North  Platte,  which  I  had  not  seen 
for  over  fifty-four  years,  as  I  had  passed  fifteen  miles 
below  here  the  last  of  June,  1852. 

Several  times  during  the  afternoon  there  were  threat- 
ening clouds,  accompanied  by  distant  lightning,  and  at 
one  time  a  black  cloud  in  the  center,  with  rapid  moving 
clouds  around  it  made  me  think  of  a  tornado,  but  finally 
disappeared  without  striking  us.    Heavy  wind  at  night. 

This  afternoon  as  we  were  driving,  with  both  in  the 
wagon,  William  heard  the  rattles  of  a  snake,  and  jumped 
out  of  the  wagon,  and  thoughtlessly  called  the  dog.  I 
stopped  the  wagon  and  called  the  dog  away  from  the  rep- 


338        VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

tile  until  it  was  killed.     When  stretched  out  it  measured 
four  feet  eight  inches,  and  had  eight  rattles. 

CASPER,    WYOMING. 

I  quote  from  my  journal: 

"Camp  No.  90,  odometer  liny2,  Casper,  Wyoming, 
July  6.  At  the  noon  hour,  while  eating  dinner,  seven 
miles  out,  we  heard  the  whistle  of  the  locomotive,  some- 
thing we  had  not  seen  nor  heard  for  nearly  300  miles.  As 
soon  as  lunch  was  over  I  left  the  wagon  and  walked  in 
ahead  of  the  team  to  select  camping  ground,  secure  feed, 
and  get  the  mail.  Received  twenty  letters,  several  from 
home. 

Fortunately  a  special  meeting  of  the  commercial  club 
held  this  evening,  and  I  laid  the  matter  of  building  a 
monument  before  them,  with  the  usual  result;  they  re- 
solved to  build  one;  opened  the  subscription  at  once,  and 
appointed  a  committee  to  carry  the  work  forward.  I  am 
assured  by  several  prominent  citizens  that  a  $500  monu- 
ment will  be  erected,  as  the  city  council  will  join  with 
the  club  to  provide  for  a  fountain  as  well,  and  place  it  on 
the  most  public  street  crossing  of  the  city. 

Glen  Rock  was  the  next  place  in  our  itinerary,  which 
we  reached  at  dark,  after  having  driven  twenty-five  and 
one-fourth  miles.  This  is  the  longest  drive  we  have  made 
on  the  whole  trip. 

GLEN    ROCK. 

Glen  Rock  is  a  small  village,  but  the  ladies  met  and 
resolved  they  "would  have  as  nice  a  monument  as  Cas- 
per," even  if  it  did  not  cost  as  much,  because  there  was  a 
stone  quarry  out  but  six  miles  from  town.  One  enthu- 
siastic lady  said   "We  will  inscribe  it   ourselves,   if  no 


OUT   ON   THE   TRAIL  339 

stone-cutter  can  be  had."  "  'Where  there's  a  will  there's 
a  way,'  as  the  old  adage  runs,"  I  remarked  as  we  left 
the  nice  little  burg  and  said  good-bye  to  the  energetic 
ladies  in  it.  God  bless  the  women,  anyhow;  I  don't  see 
how  the  world  could  get  along  without  them;  and  any- 
how I  don't  see  what  life  would  have  been  without  that 
little  faithful  companion  that  came  over  this  very  same 
ground  with  me  fifty-four  years  ago  and  still  lives  to  re- 
joice for  the  many,  many  blessings  vouchsafed  to  us  and 
our  descendants. 

DOUGLAS,  WYOMING. 

At  Douglas,  Wyoming,  11771/2  miles  out  from  The 
Dalles,  the  people  at  first  seemed  reluctant  to  assume  the 
responsibility  of  erecting  a  monument,  everybody  being 
"too  busy"  to  give  up  any  time  to  it,  but  were  willing  to 
contribute.  After  a  short  canvass,  $52  was  contributed, 
a  local  committee  appointed,  and  an  organized  effort  to 
erect  a  monument  was  well  in  hand  before  we  drove  out 
of  the  town. 

I  here  witnessed  one  of  those  heavy  downpours  like 
some  I  remember  in  '52,  where,  as  in  this  case,  the  water 
came  down  in  veritable  sheets,  and  in  an  incredibly  short 
time  turned  all  the  slopes  into  roaring  torrents  and  level 
places  into  lakes;  the  water  ran  six  inches  deep  in  the 
streets  in  this  case,  on  a  very  heavy  grade  the  whole  width 
of  the  street. 

I  quote  from  my  journal: 

"Camp  No.  95,  July  12,  odometer  1,192.  We  are 
camped  under  a  group  of  balm  trees  in  the  Platte  bottom 
near  the  bridge  at  the  farm  of  a  company,  Dr.  J.  M.  Wil- 
son in  charge,  where  we  found  a  good  vegetable  garden 


340        VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

and  were  bidden  to  help  ourselves,  which  I  did,  with  a  lib- 
eral hand,  to  a  feast  of  young  onions,  radishes,  beets  and 
lettuce  enough  for  several  days." 

PUYALLUP-TACOMA-SEATTLE. 

This  refreshing  shade  and  these  spreading  balms  car- 
ried me  back  to  the  little  cabin  home  in  the  Puyallup  val- 
ley, 1,500  miles  away,  where  we  had  for  so  long  a  period 
enjoyed  the  cool  shades  of  the  native  forests,  enlivened 
by  the  charms  of  songsters  at  peep  of  day,  with  the  drip- 
ping dew  off  the  leaves  like  as  if  a  shower  had  fallen 
over  the  forest.  Having  now  passed  the  1,200-mile  mark 
out  from  The  Dalles,  with  scarcely  the  vestige  of  timber 
life  except  in  the  snows  of  the  Blue  mountains,  one  can 
not  wonder  that  my  mind  should  run  back  to  not  only  the 
little  cabin  home  as  well  as  to  the  more  pretentious  resi- 
dence near  by;  to  the  time  when  our  homestead  of  160 
acres ;  granted  us  by  the  government  was  a  dense  forest ; 
— when  the  little  clearing  was  so  isolated  we  could  see 
naught  else  but  walls  of  timber  around  us; — timber  that 
required  the  labor  of  one  man  twelve  years  to  remove 
from  a  quarter  section  of  land; — of  the  time  when  trails 
only  reached  the  spot; — when  as  the  poet  wrote, 

"Oxen  answered  well  for  team, 
Though  now  they'd  be  too  slow; — " 
when  the  semi-monthly  mail  was  eagerly  looked  for;  when 
the  Tribune  would  be  re-read  again  and  again  before  the 
new  supply  came ;  when  the  morning  hours  before  break- 
fast were  our  only  school  hours  for  the  children;  when 
the  home-made  shoe  pegs  and  the  home-shaped  shoe  lasts 
answered  for  making  and  mending  the  shoes,  and  the 
home-saved  bristle  for  the  waxed  end ; — when  the  Indians, 


OUT   ON   THE  TRAIL.  341 

if  not  our  nearest  neighbors,  I  had  liked  to  have  said  our 
best ;  when  the  meat  in  the  barrel  and  the  flour  in  the  box, 
in  spite  of  the  most  strenuous  efforts,  would  at  times 
run  low;  when  the  time  for  labor  would  be  much  nearer 
eighteen  than  eight  hours  a  day. 

"SUPPER."  Supper  is  ready;  and  when  repeated 
in  more  imperative  tones,  I  at  last  awake  to  inhale  the 
fragrant  flavors  of  that  most  delicious  beverage,  camp 
coffee,  from  the  Mocha  and  Java  mixed  grain  that  had 
"just  come  to  a  boil,"  and  to  realize  there  was  something 
else  in  the  air  when  the  bill  of  fare  was  scanned. 

Menu. 
Calf's  liver,  friend  crisp,  with  bacon. 
Coffee,  with  cream,  and  a  lump  of  butter  added. 
Lettuce,  with  vinegar  and  sugar. 
Young  onions. 
Boiled  young  carrots. 
Radishes. 
Beets,  covered  with  vinegar. 
Cornmeal  mush,  cooked  forty  minutes,  in  reserve  and  for 
a  breakfast  fry. 
These  "delicacies  of  the  season,"  coupled  with  the — 
what   shall  I   call   it? — delicious   appetite   incident   to   a 
strenuous  day's  travel  and  a  late  supper  hour,  without  a 
dinner  padding  in  the  stomach,  aroused  me  to  a  sense  of 
the  necessities  of  the  inner  man,  and  to  that  keen  relish 
incident  to  prolonged  exertion  and  an  open-air  life,  and 
justice  was  meted  out  to  the  second  meal  of  the  day  fol- 
lowing a  5:00  o'clock  breakfast. 

I  awoke  also  to  the  fact  that  I  was  on  the  spot  near 
where  I  camped  fifty-four  years  ago  in  this  same  Platte 
valley,  then  apparently  almost  a  desert.    Now  what  do  I 


342        VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

see.  As  we  drew  into  camp,  two  mowing  machines  cutting 
the  alfalfa ;  two  or  more  teams  raking  the  cured  hay  to  the 
rick,  and  a  huge  fork  or  rake  at  intervals  climbing  the 
steep  incline  of  fenders  to  above  the  top  of  the  rick,  and 
depositing  its  equivalent  to  a  wagon-load  at  a  time.  To 
my  right,  as  we  drove  through  the  gate  the  large  garden 
looked  temptingly  near,  as  did  some  rows  of  small  fruit. 
Hay  ricks  dotted  the  field,  and  outhouses,  barns  and 
dwellings  at  the  home.  We  are  in  the  midst  of  plenty 
and  the  guests,  we  may  almost  say,  of  friends,  instead  of 
feeling  we  must  deposit  the  trusted  rifle  in  convenient 
place  while  we  eat.  Yes,  we  will  exclaim  again,  "What 
wondrous  changes  time  has  wrought!" 

But  my  mind  will  go  back  to  the  little  ivy-covered 
cabin  now  so  carefully  preserved  in  Pioneer  Park  in  the 
little  pretentious  city  of  Puyallup,  that  was  once  our 
homestead,  and  so  long  our  home,  and  where  the  residence 
still  stands  near  by.  The  timber  is  all  gone  and  in  its 
place  brick  blocks  and  pleasant,  modest  homes  are  found, 
where  the  roots  and  stumps  once  occupied  the  ground 
now  smiling  fruit  gardens  adorn  the  landscape  and  fill 
the  purses  of  400  fruit  growers,  and  supply  the  wants  of 
6,000  people.  Instead  of  the  slow  trudging  ox  team, 
driven  to  the  market  town  sixteen  miles  distant,  with  a 
day  in  camp  on  the  way,  I  see  fifty-four  railroad  trains  a 
day  thundering  through  the  town.  I  see  electric  lines  with 
crowded  cars  carrying  passengers  to  tide  water  and  to 
the  rising  city  of  Taeoma,  but  seven  miles  distant.  I  sec 
a  quarter  of  a  million  people  within  a  radius  of  thirty 
miles,  where  solitude  reigned  supreme  fifty-four  years 
ago,  save  the  song  of  the  Indian,  the  thump  of  his  canoe 
paddle,  or  the  din  of  his  gambling  revels.     When  I  go 


OUT   ON   THE   TRAIL,  343 

down  to  the  Sound  I  see  a  mile  of  shipping  docks  where 
before  the  waters  rippled  over  a  peebly  beach  filled  with 
shell-fish.  I  look  farther,  and  see  hundreds  of  steamers 
plying  thither  and  yon  on  the  great  inland  sea,  where 
fifty-four  years  ago  the  Indian's  canoe  only  noiselessly 
skimmed  the  water.  I  see  hundreds  of  sail  vessels  that 
whiten  every  sea  of  the  globe,  being  either  towed  here 
and  there  or  at  dock,  receiving  or  discharging  cargo, 
where  before  scarce  a  dozen  had  in  a  year  ventured  the 
voyage.  At  the  docks  in  Seattle  I  see  the  28,000-ton 
steamers  receiving  their  monster  cargoes  for  the  Orient, 
and  am  reminded  that  these  monsters  can  enter  any  of 
of  the  numerous  harbors  of  Puget  Sound  and  are  supple- 
mented by  a  great  array  of  other  steam  tonnage  contend- 
ing for  that  vast  across-sea  trade,  and  again  exclaim  with 
greater  wonderment  than  ever,  "What  wondrous  changes 
time  has  wrought!"  If  I  look  through  the  channels  of 
Puget  Sound,  I  yet  see  the  forty  islands  or  more ;  its  six- 
teen hundred  miles  of  shore  line ;  its  schools  of  fish,  and 
at  intervals  the  seal;  its  myriads  of  sea  gulls;  the  hawking 
crow;  the  clam  beds;  the  ebb  and  flow  of  the  tide; — still 
there.  But  many  happy  homes  dot  the  shore  line  where 
the  dense  forests  stood ;  the  wild  fruits  have  given  way  to 
the  cultivated ;  train-loads  of  fruit  go  out  to  distant  mar- 
kets; and  what  we  once  looked  upon  as  barren  land  now 
gives  plenteous  crops;  and  we  again  exclaim  "What 
wondrous  changes  time  has  wrought,"  or  shall  Ave  not 
say,  "What  wondrous  changes  the  hand  of  man  has 
wrought!" 

But   I  am   admonished  I  have  wandered   and   must 
needs  go  back  to  our  narrative. 


344        VENTURES    AND   ADVENTURES   OF   EZRA   MEEKER 

CHAPTER  XLIII. 

FORT  LARAMIE,  WYOMING. 

I  quote  from  my  journal : 

"Camp  No.  99,  July  16,  Fort  Laramie,  odometer 
1,247.  From  the  time  we  crossed  the  Missouri  in  May, 
1852,  until  we  arrived  opposite  this  place  on  the  north 
hank  of  the  Platte,  no  place  or  name  was  so  universally 
in  the  minds  of  the  emigrants  as  old  Fort  Laramie;  here, 
we  eagerly  looked  for  letters  that  never  came — mayhe 
our  friends  and  relatives  had  not  written ;  maybe  they  had 
and  the  letter  lost  or  dumped  somewhere  in  "The  States"; 
but  now  all  hope  vanished,  regarding  the  prospect  of 
hearing  from  home  and  we  must  patiently  wait  until  the 
long  journey  has  ended  and  a  missive  might  reach  us  by 
the  Isthmus  or  maybe  by  a  sail  vessel  around  Cape  Horn. 
Now,  as  I  write,  I  know  my  letter  written  in  the  morning 
will  at  night  be  on  the  banks  of  the  great  river,  and  so 
for  each  day  of  the  year.  One  never  ceases  to  exclaim, 
"What  changes  time  has  wrought!"  What  wondrous 
changes  in  these  fifty-four  years,  since  I  first  set  foot  on 
the  banks  of  the  Platte  and  looked  longingly  across  the 
river  for  the  letter  that  never  came. 

This  morning  at  4:30  the  alarm  sounded,  but  in  spite 
of  our  strenuous  efforts  the  start  was  delayed  till  6 :15. 
Conditions  were  such  as  to  give  us  a  hot  day,  but  the  cat- 
tle would  not  travel  without  eating  the  grass  in  the  road, 
having  for  some  cause  not  liked  the  grass  they  were  on 
during  the  night;  and  so,  after  driving  a  couple  of  miles 
and  finding  splendid  feed,  we  turned  them  out  to  fill  up, 
which  they  speedily  did,  and  thereafter  became  laggards, 
too  lazy  for  anything.    So  after  all  we  did  not  arrive  here 


OUT   ON   THE  TRAIL,  34S 

till  4 :00,  and  with  dinner  at  six,  it  is  not  strange  that  we 
had  good  appetites. 

Locally,  it  is  difficult  to  get  accurate  information. 
All  agree  there  is  no  vestige  of  the  old  Traders'  Camp 
or  the  first  United  States  Fort  left,  but  disagree  as  to  its 
location.  The  new  fort  (not  a  fort,  but  an  encampment), 
covers  a  space  of  thirty  or  forty  acres  with  all  sorts  of 
buildings  and  ruins,  from  the  old  barracks,  three  hundred 
feet  long,  in  good  preservation  and  occupied  by  the 
present  owner,  Joseph  Wild,  as  a  store,  postoffice,  saloon, 
hotel  and  family  residence,  to  the  old  guard  house  with  its 
grim  iron  door  and  twenty-inch  concrete  walls.  One 
frame  building,  two  stories,  we  are  told,  was  transported 
by  ox  team"  from  Kansas  City  at  a  cost  of  $100  per  ton 
freight.  There  seems  to  be  no  plan  either  in  the  ar- 
rangement of  the  buildings  or  of  the  buildings  them- 
selves. I  noticed  one  building,  part  stone,  part  concrete, 
part  abode,  and  part  burnt  brick.  The  concrete  walls  of 
one  building  measured  twenty-two  inches  thick  and  there 
is  evidence  of  the  use  of  lime  with  a  lavish  hand,  and  I 
think  all  of  them  are  alike  massive. 

The  location  of  the  barracks  is  in  Sec.  28,  T.  26  N., 
R,  64  W.  of  6th  P.  M.,  United  States  survey." 

SCOTT'S    BLUFF. 

July  20th,  odometer  1,30814  miles.  "We  drove  out  from 
the  town  of  Scott's  Bluff  to  the  left  bank  of  the  North 
Platte,  less  than  a  mile  from  the  town,  to  a  point  nearly 
opposite  that  noted  landmark,  Scott's  Bluff,  on  the  right 
bank,  looming  up  near  eight  hundred  feet  above  the  river 
and  adjoining  green  fields,  and  photographed  the  bluffs 
and  section  of  the  river.     (See  appendix.) 


346        VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

Probably  all  emigrants  of  early  days  remember 
Scott's  Bluff,  which  could  be  seen  for  so  long  a  distance, 
and  yet  apparently  so  near  for  days  and  days,  till  it  final- 
ly sank  out  of  sight  as  we  passed  on,  and  new  objects 
came  into  view.  As  with  Tortoise  Rock  (see  appendix) 
the  formation  is  sand  and  clay  cemented,  yet  soft  enough 
to  cut  easily,  and  is  constantly  changing  in  smaller  details. 

We  certainly  saw  Scott's  Bluff  while  near  the  junc- 
tion of  the  two  rivers,  near  a  hundred  miles  distant,  in 
that  illusive  phenomenon,  the  mirage,  as  plainly  as  when 
within  a  few  miles  of  it. 

Speaking  of  this  deceptive  manifestation  of  one  natur- 
al law,  I  am  led  to  wonder  why,  on  the  trip  of  1906,  I 
have  seen  nothing  of  those  sheets  of  water  so  real  as  to 
be  almost  within  our  grasp  yet  never  reached,  those  hills 
and  valleys  we  never  traversed,  beautiful  pictures  on  the 
horizon  and  sometimes  above,  while  traversing  the  valley 
in  1852 ; — all  gone,  perhaps  to  be  seen  no  more,  as  climatic 
changes  come  to  destroy  the  conditions  that  caused  them. 
Perhaps  this  may  in  part  be  caused  by  the  added  humidity 
of  the  atmosphere,  or  it  may  be  also  in  part  because  of 
the  numerous  groves  of  timber  that  now  adorn  the  land- 
scape. Whatever  the  cause,  the  fact  remains  that  in 
the  year  1852  the  mirage  was  of  common  occurrence  and 
now,  if  seen  at  all,  is  rare. 

The  origin  of  the  name  of  Scott's  Bluff  is  not  definite- 
ly known,  but  as  tradition  runs  "a  trader  named  Scott, 
while  returning  to  the  States,  was  robbed  and  stripped 
by  the  Indians.  He  crawled  to  these  bluffs  and  there 
famished  and  his  bones  were  afterwards  found  and 
buried,"  these  quoted  words  having  been  written  by  a 
passing  emigrant  on  the  spot,  June  11,  1852. 


OUT   ON   THE  TRAIL  347 

Another  version  of  his  fate  is  that  Scott  fell  sick  and 
was  abandoned  by  his  traveling  companions,  and  after 
having  crawled  near  forty  miles  finally  died  near  the 
"Bluffs,"  ever  after  bearing  his  name.  This  occurred 
prior  to  1830. 

THE    DEAD   OF   THE    PLAINS. 

From  the  "Bluffs"  we  drove  as  direct  as  possible  to 
that  historic  grave,  two  miles  out  from  the  town  and  on 
the  railroad  right  of  way,  of  Mrs.  Rebecca  Winters  (see 
appendix),  who  died  August  15,  1852,  nearly  six  weeks 
after  I  had  passed  over  the  ground. 

But  for  the  handiwork  of  some  unknown  friend  or 
relative  this  grave,  like  thousands  and  thousands  of  others 
who  fell  by  the  wayside  in  those  strenuous  days,  would 
have  passed  out  of  sight  and  mind  and  nestled  in  solitude 
and  unknown  for  all  ages  to  come. 

As  far  back  as  the  memory  of  the  oldest  inhabitant 
runs,  a  half  sunken  wagon  tire  bore  this  simple  inscrip- 
tion, "Rebecca  Winters,  aged  50  years."  The  hoofs  of 
stock  trampled  the  sunken  grave  and  trod  it  into  dust,  but 
the  arch  of  the  tire  remained  to  defy  the  strength  of 
thoughtless  hands  who  would  have  removed  it,  and  of 
the  ravages  of  time  that  seem  not  to  have  affected  it. 
Finally,  in  "the  lapse  of  time"  that  usual  non-respecter 
of  persons — the  railroad  survey — and  afterwards  the  rails 
came  along  and  would  have  run  the  track  over  the  lonely 
grave  but  for  the  tender  care  of  the  man  who  wielded  the 
compass  and  changed  the  line,  that  the  resting  place  of  the 
pioneer  should  not  be  disturbed,  followed  by  the  noble 
impulse  of  him  who  held  the  power  to  control  the  ' '  soul- 
less corporation."  and  the  grave  was  protected  and  en- 
closed.   Then  came  the  press  correspondent  and  the  press 


348        VENTURES   AND   ADVENTURES    OP   EZRA    MEEKER 

to  herald  to  the  world  the  pathos  of  the  lone  grave,  to  in 
time  reach  the  eyes  and  touch  the  hearts  of  the  descend- 
ants of  the  dead,  who  had  almost  passed  out  of  mind  and 
to  quicken  the  interest  in  the  memory  of  one  once  dear 
to  them,  till  in  time  there  arose  a  beautiful  monument 
lovingly  inscribed,  just  one  hundred  years  after  the  birth 
of  the  inmate  of  the  grave. 

As  I  looked  upon  this  grave,  now  surrounded  by 
green  fields  and  happy  homes,  my  mind  ran  back  to  the 
time  it  was  first  occupied  in  the  desert  (as  all  believed 
the  country  through  which  we  were  passing  to  be),  and 
the  awful  calamity  that  overtook  so  many  to  carry  them 
to  their  untimely  and  unknown  graves. 

The  ravages  of  cholera  carried  off  thousands.  One 
family  of  seven  a  little  further  down  the  Platte,  lie  all  in 
one  grave ;  forty-one  persons  of  one  train  dead  in  one  day 
and  two  nights  tells  but  part  of  the  dreadful  story.  The 
count  of  fifty-three  freshly  made  graves  in  one  camp 
ground  left  a  vivid  impress  upon  my  mind  that  has  never 
been  effaced;  but  where  now  are  those  graves?  They  are 
irrevocably  lost.  I  can  recall  to  mind  one  point  where 
seventy  were  buried  in  one  little  group  not  one  of  the 
graves  now  to  be  seen — trampled  out  of  sight  by  the  hoofs 
of  the  millions  of  stock  later  passing  over  the  Trail. 

Bearing  this  in  mind,  how  precious  this  thought  that 
even  one  grave  has  been  rescued  from  oblivion,  and  how 
precious  will  become  the  memory  of  the  deeds  of  those 
who  have  so  freely  dedicated  their  part  to  recall  the 
events  of  the  past  and  to  honor  those  sturdy  pioneers  who 
survived  those  trying  experiences  as  well  as  the  dead,  by 
erecting  those  monuments  that  now  line  the  Trail  for 
nearly  two  thousand  miles.     To  these,  one  and  all,  I  bow 


OUT   ON   THE   TRAIL  349 

my  head  in  grateful  appreciation  of  their  aid  in  this 
work  to  perpetuate  the  memory  of  the  pioneers,  and  espe- 
cially the  5,000  school  children  who  have  each  contributed 
their  mite  that  the  memory  of  the  dead  pioneers  might 
remain  fresh  in  their  minds  and  the  minds  of  generations 
to  follow. 

A  drive  of  seventeen  miles  brought  us  to  the  town  of 
Bayard,  1,338  miles  on  the  way  from  The  Dalles,  Oregon, 
where  our  continuous  drive  began. 

CHIMNEY    ROCK. 

Chimney  Rock  is  six  miles  southwesterly  in  full  view, 
a  curious  freak  of  nature  we  all  remembered  while  pass- 
ing in  '52. 

The  base  reminds  one  of  an  umbrella  standing  on  the 
ground,  covering  perhaps  twelve  acres  and  running,  cone- 
shaped,  200  feet  to  the  base  of  the  spire  resting  upon  it. 
The  spire  (chimney)  points  to  the  heavens,  which  would 
entitle  the  pile  to  a  more  appropriate  name,  as  like  a 
church  spire  (see  appendix)  tall  and  slim,  the  wonder 
of  all — how  it  comes  that  the  hand  of  time  has  not  leveled 
it  long  ago  and  mingled  its  crumbling  substance  with  that 
lying  at  its  base.  The  whole  pile,  like  that  at  Scott's  Bluff 
and  Court  House  Rock  further  down,  is  a  sort  of  soft  sand- 
stone, or  cement  and  clay,  gradually  crumbling  away  and 
destined  to  be  leveled  to  the  earth  in  centuries  to  come. 

A  local  story  runs  that  an  army  officer  trained  artil- 
lery on  this  spire,  shot  off  about  thirty  feet  from  the  top, 
and  was  afterwards  court  martialed  and  discharged  in 
disgrace  from  the  army;  but  I  could  get  no  definite  in- 
formation, though  the  story  was  repeated  again  and  again. 
It  would  seem  incredible  that  an  intelligent  man,  such 


350        VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

as  an  army  officer,  would  do  such  an  act,  and  if  he  did  he 
deserved  severe  condemnation  and  punishment. 

I  noticed  that  at  Soda  Springs  the  hand  of  the  vandal 
had  been  at  work,  and  that  interesting  phenomenon,  the 
Steamboat  Spring,  the  wonderment  of  all  in  1852  with  its 
intermittent  spouting,  had  been  tampered  with  and  ceased 
to  act.  It  would  seem  the  degenerates  are  not  all  dead 
yet. 

NORTH  PLATTE,  NEBRASKA. 

At  North  Platte  the  ladies  of  the  W.  C.  T.  U.  ap- 
pointed a  committee  to  undertake  to  erect  a  monument, 
the  business  men  all  refusing  to  give  up  any  time.  How- 
ever, W.  C.  Ritner,  a  respected  citizen  of  North  Platte, 
offered  to  donate  a  handsome  monument  with  a  cement 
base,  marble  cap,  stone  and  cement  column,  five  and  a 
half  feet  high,  which  will  be  accepted  by  the  ladies  and 
erected  in  a  suitable  place. 

CHAPTER  XLIV. 

DEATH    OP    TWIST. 

"Old  Oregon  Trail  Monument  Expedition,  Brady 
Island,  Neb.,  August  9,  1906,  Camp  No.  120,  odometer 
1,536%.  Yesterday  morning  Twist  ate  his  grain  as  usual 
and  showed  no  signs  of  sickness  until  we  were  on  the 
road  two  or  three  miles,  when  he  began  to  put  his  tongue 
out  and  his  breathing  became  heavy.  But  he  leaned  on 
the  yoke  heavier  than  usual  and  seemed  determined  to 
pull  the  whole  load.  I  finally  stopped,  put  him  on  the  off 
side,  gave  him  the  long  end  of  the  yoke  and  tied  his  head 
back  with  the  halter  strap  to  the  chain,  but  to  no  purpose, 
for  he  pulled  by  the  head  very  heavy.    I  finally  unyoked, 


OUT   ON   THE  TRAIL,  351 

gave  him  a  quart  of  lard,  a  gill  of  vinegar  and  a  handful 
of  sugar,  but  all  to  no  purpose,  for  he  soon  fell  down  and 
in  two  hours  was  dead." 

Such  is  the  record  in  my  journal  telling  of  the  death 
of  this  noble  animal,  which  I  think  died  from  eating  some 
poisonous  plant. 

"When  we  started  from  Camp  No.  1,  January  29, 
Puyallup,  Washington,  Twist  weighed  1,470  pounds. 
After  we  crossed  two  ranges  of  mountains ;  had  wallowed 
in  the  snows  of  the  Blue  Mountains;  followed  the  tor- 
tuous rocky  canyons  of  Burnt  river;  up  the  deep  sand  of 
the  Snake,  this  ox  had  gained  in  weight  137  pounds,  and 
weighed  1,607  pounds  while  laboring  under  the  short  end 
of  the  yoke  that  gave  him  fifty-five  per  cent  of  the  draft 
and  an  increased  burden  he  would  assume  by  keeping  his 
end  of  the  yoke  a  little  ahead,  no  matter  how  much  the 
mate  might  be  urged  to  keep  up. 

There  are  striking  individualities  in  animals  as  well 
as  in  men,  and  I  had  liked  to  have  said  virtues  as  well; 
and  why  not?  If  an  animal  always  does  his  duty;  is 
faithful  to  your  interest ;  industrious — why  not  recognize 
it,  even  if  he  was  'nothing  but  an  ox?' 

We  are  wont  to  extol  the  virtue  of  the  dead,  and  to 
forget  their  short  comings,  but  here,  a  plain  statement  of 
facts  will  suffice  to  revive  the  memories  of  the  almost 
forgotten  past  of  an  animal  so  dear  to  the  pioneers  who 
struggled  across  Plains  and  over  mountains  in  the  long 
ago. 

To  understand  the  achievements  of  this  ox  it  is  nec- 
essary to  state  the  burden  he  carried.  The  wagon  weighed 
1,430  pounds,  is  a  wooden  axle  and  wide  track  and  had 
an  average  load  of  800  pounds.    He  had,  with  an  unbroken 


352        VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

four-year-old  steer — a  natural-born  shirk — with  the  short 
end  of  the  yoke  before  mentioned,  hauled  this  wagon 
1,776  miles  and  was  in  better  working  trim  when  he 
died  than  when  the  trip  began.  And  yet,  am  I  sure  that 
at  some  points  I  did  not  abuse  him?  What  about  com- 
ing up  out  of  Little  Canyon  or  rather  up  the  steep 
rocky  steps  of  stones  like  veritable  stairs,  when  I  used 
the  goad,  and  he  pulled  a  shoe  off  and  his  feet  from  under 
him?  Was  I  merciful  then,  or  did  I  exact  more  than  I 
ought  ?  I  can  see  him  yet  in  my  mind,  while  on  his  knees 
holding  the  wagon  from  rolling  back  into  the  canyon 
till  the  wheel  could  be  blocked  and  the  brakes  set.  Then 
when  bid  to  start  the  load,  he  did  not  flinch.  He  was  the 
best  ox  I  ever  saw,  without  exception,  and  his  loss  has 
nearly  broken  up  the  expedition,  and  it  is  one  case  where 
his  like  can  not  be  obtained.  He  has  had  a  decent  burial, 
and  a  head-board  will  mark  his  grave  and  recite  his 
achievements  in  the  valuable  aid  rendered  in  this  expedi- 
tion to  perpetuate  the  memory  of  the  Old  Oregon  Trail 
and  for  which  he  has  given  up  his  life." 

What  shall  I  do?  Abandon  the  work?  No.  But  I 
can  not  go  on  with  one  ox,  and  can  not  remain  here.  And 
so  a  horse  team  was  hired  to  take  us  to  the  next  town, 
Gothenburg — thirteen  miles  distant — and  the  lone  ox  led 
behind  the  wagon. 

GOTHENBURG,   NEBRASKA. 

"Gothenburg,  Nebraska,  August  10,  1906,  Camp  No. 
121,  odometer  1,549.  The  people  here  resolved  to  erect  a 
monument,  appointed  a  committee,  and  a  contribution  of 
some  fifteen  dollars  was  secured. 

LEXINGTON. 

Again  hired  a  horse  team  to  haul  the  wagon  to  Lex- 


OUT   ON   THE   TRAIL,  353 

ington.  At  Lexington  I  thought  the  loss  of  the  ox  could 
be  repaired  by  buying  a  pair  of  heavy  cows  and  breaking 
them  in  to  work,  and  so  purchased  two  out  of  a  band  of 
200  cattle  nearby.  'Why,  yes,  of  course  they  will  work,' 
I  said,  when  a  bystander  had  asked  the  question.  'Why, 
I  have  seen  whole  teams  of  cows  on  the  Plains  in  '52,  and 
they  would  trip  along  so  merrily  one  would  be  tempted 
to  turn  the  oxen  out  and  get  cows.  Yes,  we  will  soon 
have  a  team,'  I  said,  'only  we  can't  go  very  far  in  a  day 
with  a  raw  team,  especially  in  this  hot  weather.'  But 
one  of  the  cows  would 't  go  at  all;  we  could  not  lead  or 
drive  her.  Put  her  in  the  yoke  and  she  would  stand  stock 
still  just  like  a  stubborn  mule.  Hitch  the  yoke  by  a 
strong  rope  behind  the  wagon  with  a  horse  team  to  pull, 
she  would  brace  her  feet  and  actually  slide  along,  but 
wouldn't  lift  a  foot.  I  never  saw  such  a  brute  before, 
and  hope  1  never  will  again.  I  have  broken  wild,  fighting, 
kicking  steers  to  the  yoke  and  enjoyed  the  sport,  but  from 
a  sullen  tame  cow  deliver  me. 

"Won't  you  take  her  back  and  give  me  another?"  \ 
asked.  "Yes,  I  will  give  you  that  red  cow  (one  I  had 
rejected  as  unfit),  but  not  one  of  the  others."  "Then 
what  is  this  coav  worth  to  you?"  Back  came  the  response, 
"Thirty  dollars,"  and  so  I  dropped  ten  dollars  (having 
paid  him  forty),  lost  the  better  part  of  a  day,  exper- 
ienced a  good  deal  of  vexation.  "Oh,  if  I  could  only  have 
Twist  back  again." 

The  fact  gradually  dawned  upon  me  that  the  loss 
of  that  fine  ox  was  almost  irreparable.  I  could  not  get 
track  of  an  ox  anywhere  nor  of  even  a  steer  large  enough 
to  mate  the  Dave  ox.  Besides,  Dave  always  was 
a    fool.     I    could     scarcely    teach     him     anything.      He 


354         VENTURES   AND   ADVENTURES   OF   EZRA    MEEKER 

did  learn  to  haw,  by  the  word  when  on  the  off  side,  but 
wouldn't  mind  the  word  a  bit  if  on  the  near  side.  Then 
he  would  hold  his  head  way  up  while  in  the  yoke  as  if  he 
disdained  to  work,  and  poke  his  tongue  out  at  least  bit  of 
warm  weather  or  serious  work.  Then  he  didn't  have  the 
stamina  of  Twist.  Although  given  the  long  end  of  the 
yoke,  so  that  Twist  would  pull  fifty-five  per  cent  of  the 
load,  Dave  would  always  lag  behind.  Here  was  a  case 
where  the  individuality  of  the  ox  was  as  marked  as  ever 
between  man  and  man.  Twist  would  watch  my  every 
motion  and  mind  by  the  wave  of  the  hand,  but  Dave  never 
minded  anything  except  to  shirk  hard  work,  while  Twist 
always  seemed  to  love  his  work  and  would  go  freely  all 
day.  And  so  it  was  brought  home  to  me  more  forcibly 
than  ever  that  in  the  loss  of  the  Twist  ox  I  had  almost  lost 
the  whole  team. 

Now  if  this  had  occurred  in  1852  the  loss  could  have 
been  easily  remedied,  where  there  were  so  many  "broke" 
cattle,  and  where  there  wrere  always  several  yoke  to  the 
wagon.  So  when  I  drove  out  with  a  hired  horse  team 
that  day  with  the  Dave  ox  tagging  on  behind  and  some- 
times pulling  on  his  halter,  and  an  unbroken  cow,  it  may 
easily  be  guessed  the  pride  of  anticipated  success  went  out, 
and  a  feeling  akin  to  despair  seized  upon  me.  Here  I  had 
two  yokes,  one  a  heavy  ox  yoke  and  the  other  a  light  cow's 
yoke,  but  the  cow,  I  thought,  could  not  be  worked  along- 
side the  ox  in  the  ox  yoke,  nor  the  ox  with  the  cow  in  the 
cow  yoke,  and  so  there  I  was  without  a  team  but  with  a 
double  encumbrance. 

Yes,  the  ox  has  passed — has  had  his  day,  for  in  all 
this  state  I  have  been  unable  to  find  even  one  yoke.  So  I 
trudged  along,  sometimes  behind  the  led  cattle,  wonder- 


OUT   ON   THE   TRAIL  355 

ing  in  my  mind  whether  or  no  I  had  been  foolish  to  under- 
take this  expedition  to  perpetuate  the  memory  of  the  Old 
Oregon  Trail.  Had  I  not  been  rebuffed  by  a  number  of 
business  men  who  pushed  the  subject  aside  with,  "I  have 
no  time  to  look  into  it?"  Hadn't  I  been  compelled  to  pass 
several  towns  where  even  three  persons  could  not  be 
found  to  act  on  the  committee?  And  then  there  was  the 
experience  of  the  constant  suspicion  and  watch  to  see  if 
some  graft  could  not  be  discovered — some  lurking  specu- 
lation. All  this  could  be  borne  in  patience,  but  when 
coupled  with  it  came  the  virtual  loss  of  the  team,  is  it 
strange  that  my  spirits  went  down  below  a  normal  con- 
dition ? 

But  then  came  the  compensatory  thought  as  to  what 
had  been  accomplished ;  how  three  states  had  responded 
cordially  and  a  fourth  as  well,  considering  the  sparse 
population.  How  could  I  account  for  the  difference  in 
the  reception?  It  was  the  press.  In  the  first  place  the 
newspapers  took  up  the  work  in  advance  of  my  coming, 
while  in  the  latter  case  the  notices  and  commendation 
followed  my  presence  in  a  town.  And  so  I  queried  in  my 
mind  as  we  trudged  along, — after  all,  I  am  sowing  the 
seed  that  will  bring  the  harvest  later.  Then  my  mind 
would  run  back  along  the  line  of  over  1,500  miles,  where 
stand  nineteen  sentinels,  mostly  granite,  to  proclaim  for 
the  centuries  to  come  that  the  hand  of  communities  had 
been  at  work  and  planted  these  shafts  that  the  memory  of 
the  dead  pioneers  might  live ;  where  a  dozen  boulders, 
including  the  great  Independence  Rock,  also  bear  this 
testimony,  and  where  a  hundred  wooden  posts  mark  the 
Trail,  when  stone  was  unobtainable.  I  recalled  the  cor- 
dial reception  in  so  many  places:  the  outpouring  of  con- 


356        VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA   MEEKER 

tributions  from  5,000  school  children ;  the  liberal  hand 
of  the  people  that  built  these  monuments ;  the  more  than 
20,000  people  attending  the  dedication  ceremonies.  And 
while  I  trudged  along  and  thought  of  the  encouragement 
that  I  had  received,  I  forgot  all  about  the  loss  of  Twist, 
the  recalcitrant  cow,  the  dilemma  that  confronted  me, 
only  to  awaken  from  my  reverie  in  a  more  cheerful  mood. 
"Do  the  best  you  can,"  I  said  almost  in  an  audible  tone, 
"and  be  not  cast  down"  and  my  spirits  rose  almost  to  the 
point  of  exultation. 

CHAPTER  XLV. 

KEARNEY,    NEBRASKA. 

At  that  beautiful  city  of  Kearney  we  were  accorded 
a  fine  camping  place  in  the  center  of  the  town  under  the 
spreading  boughs  of  the  shade  trees  that  line  the  streets, 
and  a  nice  green,  fresh-cut  sward  upon  which  to  pitch 
our  tents.  The  people  came  in  great  numbers  to  visit  the 
camp  and  express  their  approval  as  to  the  object  of  the 
trip.  I  said,  "Here,  we  will  surely  get  a  splendid  monu- 
ment," but  when  I  came  to  consult  with  the  business 
men  not  one  could  be  found  to  give  up  any  time  to  the 
work,  though  many  seemed  interested.  The  president  of 
the  commercial  club  even  refused  to  call  a  meeting  of  the 
club  to  consider  the  subject,  because  he  said  he  had  no 
time  to  attend  the  meeting  and  thought  most  of  the 
members  would  be  the  same.  I  did  not  take  it  this  man 
was  opposed  to  the  proposed  work,  but  honestly  felt 
there  were  more  important  matters  pressing  upon  the 
time  of  business  men,  and  said  the  subject  could  be  taken 
up  at  their  regular  meeting  in  the  near  future.     As  I 


OUT   ON   THE   TRAIL,  357 

left  this  man's  office,  who,  I  doubted  not,  had  spoken  the 
truth,  I  wondered  to  myself  if  these  busy  men  would  ever 
find  time  to  die.  How  did  they  find  time  to  eat?  or  to 
sleep?  and  I  queried,  Is  a  business  man's  life  worth  the 
living,  if  all  his  wakeful  moments  are  absorbed  in  grasp- 
ing for  gains?  But  I  am  admonished  that  this  query 
must  be  answered  each  for  himself,  and  I  reluctantly 
came  away  from  Kearney  without  accomplishing  the  ob- 
ject of  my  visit,  and  wondering  whether  my  mission  was 
ended  and  results  finished. 

The  reader  will  readily  see  that  I  would  be  the  more 
Mailing  listener  to  such  an  inner  suggestion,  in  view  of 
my  crippel  condition  to  carry  on  the  work.  And  might 
not  that  condition  have  a  bearing  to  bring  about  such 
results?  No.  For  the  people  seemed  to  be  greatly  inter- 
ested and  sympathetic.  The  press  was  particularly  kind 
in  their  notices,  commending  the  work,  but  it  takes  time 
to  arouse  the  business  men  to  action,  as  one  remarked  to 
me,  "You  can't  hurry  us  to  do  anything;  we  are  not  that 
kind  of  a  set."  This  was  said  in  a  tone  bordering  on  the 
offensive,  though  perhaps  expressing  only  a  truth. 

GRAND  ISLAND. 

I  did  not,  however,  feel  willing  to  give  up  the  work 
after  having  accomplished  so  much  on  the  1,700  miles 
traveled,  and  with  less  than  200  miles  ahead  of  me,  and  so 
I  said,  "I  will  try  again  at  Grand  Island,"  the  next  place 
where  there  was  a  center  of  population,  that  an  effort 
would  probably  succeed.  Here  I  found  there  was  a  de- 
cided public  sentiment  in  favor  of  taking  action,  but  at  a 
later  date — next  year — jointly  to  honor  the  local  pioneers 
upon  the  occasion  of  the  fiftieth .  anniversary  of  the  set- 


358        VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

tlement  around  and  about  the  city;  and  so,  this  dividing 
the  attention  of  the  people,  it  was  not  thought  best  to 
undertake  the  work  now,  and  again  I  bordered  on  the 
slough  of  despondency. 

I  could  not  repeat  the  famous  words,  I  would  "fight 
it  out  on  this  line  if  it  takes  all  summer,"  for  here  it  is 
the  30th  of  August,  and  in  one  day  more  summer  will  be 
gone.  Neither  could  I  see  how  to  accomplish  more  than 
prepare  the  way,  and  that  now  the  press  is  doing,  and 
sowing  seed  upon  kindly  ground  that  will  in  the  future 
bring  forth  abundant  harvest. 

Gradually  the  fact  became  uppermost  in  my  mind 
that  I  was  powerless  to  move ;  that  my  team  was  gone.  No 
response  came  to  the  extensive  advertisements  for  an  ox 
or  a  yoke  of  oxen,  showing  clearly  there  were  none  in  the 
country,  and  that  the  only  way  to  repair  the  damage  was 
to  get  unbroken  steers  or  cows  and  break  them  in.  This 
could  not  be  done  in  hot  weather  or  at  least  cattle  unused 
to  work  could  not  go  under  the  yoke  and  render  effective 
service  while  seasoning,  and  so,  for  the  time  being,  the 
work  on  the  Trail  was  suspended. 

As  I  write  in  this  beautiful  grove  of  the  "old  court 
house  grounds,  in  the  heart  of  this  embryo  city  of  Grand 
Island  with  its  stately  rows  of  shade  trees,  its  modest, 
elegant  homes,  the  bustle  and  stir  on  its  business  streets 
with  the  constant  passing  of  trains,  shrieking  of  whistles, 
ringing  of  bells  the  reminder  of  a  great  change  in  condi- 
tions, my  mind  reverts  back  to  that  June  day  of  1852 
when  I  passed  over  the  ground  near  where  the  city 
stands.  Vast  herds  of  buffalo  then  grazed  on  the  hills 
or  leisurely  crossed  our  track  and  at  times  obstructed  our 
way.      Flocks    of   antelope   frisked    on    the    outskirts   or 


OUT   ON   THE   TRAIL  359 

watched  from  vantage  points.  The  prairie  clogs  reared 
their  heads  in  comical  attitude,  burrowing,  it  was  said, 
with  the  rattle  snake  and  the  badger. 

But  now  these  dog  colonies  are  gone ;  the  buffalo  has 
gone;  the  antelope  has  disappeared;  as  likewise  the  In- 
dian. Now  all  is  changed.  Instead  of  the  parched  plain 
we  saw  in  1852  with  its  fierce  clouds  of  dust  rolling 
up  the  valley  and  engulfing  whole  trains  until  not  a  ves- 
tige of  them  could  be  seen,  we  see  the  landscape  of  smil- 
ing, fruitful  fields,  of  contented  homes,  of  inviting  clumps 
of  trees  dotting  the  landscape.  The  hand  of  man  has 
changed  what  we  looked  upon  as  a  barren  plain  to  that  of 
a  fruitland  land.  Where  then,  there  were  only  stretches 
of  buffalo  grass  now  waving  fields  of  grain  and  great 
fields  of  corn  send  forth  abundant  harvests.  Yes,  we  may 
again  exclaim,  "What  wondrous  changes  time  has 
wrought." 

At  Grand  Island  I  shipped  to  Fremont,  Neb.,  to  head 
the  procession  celebrating  the  semi-centennial  of  found- 
ing that  city,  working  the  ox  and  cow  together;  thence 
to  Lincoln,  where  the  first  edition  of  this  volume  was 
printed,  all  the  while  searching  for  an  ox  or  a  steer 
large  enough  to  mate  the  Dave  ox,  but  without  avail. 
Finally,  after  looking  over  a  thousand  head  of  cattle  in 
the  stock  yards  of  Omaha  (see  appendix),  a  four-year-old 
steer  was  found  and  broken  in  on  the  way  to  Indianap- 
olis (see  appendix),  where  I  arrived  January  5,  1907, 
eleven  months  and  seven  days  from  date  of  departure 
from  my  home  at  Puyallup,  2,600  miles  distant. 


360         VENTURES    AND   ADVENTURES   OF   EZRA   MEEKER 

CHAPTER  XLVI. 

FROM    INDIANAPOLIS    TO    WASHINGTON. 

Upon  my  arrival  in  Indianapolis,  people  began  to  ask 
me  about  the  Trail,  and  to  say  they  had  never  heard  that 
the  Oregon  Trail  ran  through  that  city,  to  which  I  replied 
I  never  had  ever  heard  that  it  did.  A  quizzical  look  some- 
times would  bring  out  an  explanation  that  the  intent  of 
the  expedition  was  as  much  to  work  upon  the  hearts  of 
the  people  as  to  work  upon  the  Trail  itself;  that  what  we 
wanted,  was  to  fire  the  imagination  of  the  people  and  get 
them  first  to  know  there  was  such  a  thing  as  the  Oregon 
Trail  and  then  to  know  what  it  meant  in  history. 

After  passing  the  Missouri,  and  leaving  the  Trail  be- 
hind me  I  somehow  had  a  foreboding  that  I  might  be  mis- 
taken for  a  faker  and  looked  upon  either  as  an  adventurer 
or  a  sort  of  a  "wandering  Jew"  and  shrank  from  the 
ordeal.  My  hair  had  grown  long  on  the  trip  across;  my 
boots  were  some  the  worse  for  wear  and  my  old-fashioned 
suit  (understood  well  enough  by  pioneers  along  the  Trail) 
that  showed  dilapidation  all  combined,  made  me  not  the 
most  presentable  in  every  sort  of  company.  Coupled  with 
that  had  T  not  already  been  compelled  to  say  that  I  was 
not  a  "corn  doctor"  or  any  kind  of  a  doctor;  that  I  did 
not  have  patent  medicine  or  any  other  sort  of  medicine  to 
sell,  and  that  I  was  neither  soliciting  or  receiving  con- 
tributions to  support  the  expedition.  I  had  early  in  the 
trip  realized  the  importance  of  disarming  criticism  or 
suspicion  that  there  was  graft  or  speculation  in  the  work. 
And  yet,  day  after  day,  there  would  come  questions 
pointed  or  otherwise  evidently  to  probe  to  the  bottom  to 
find  out  if  there  was  lurking  somewhere  or  somehow  an 


INDIANAPOLIS   TO  WASHINGTON  361 

ulterior  object  not  appearing  on  the  surface.  There  being 
none,  the  doubters  would  be  disarmed  only  to  make  way 
for  a  new  crop,  maybe  the  very  next  hour. 

But  the  press,  with  but  one  exception  had  been  ex- 
ceedingly kind,  and  understood  the  work.  It  remained 
for  one  man*  of  the  thousand  or  more. who  wrote  of  the 
work,  at  a  later  date  to  write  of  his  "suspicions."  I 
wrote  that  gentleman  that  "suspicions  as  to  one's  mo- 
tives were  of  the  same  cloth  as  the  "breath  of  scandal" 
against  a  fair  lady's  character,  leaving  the  victim  help- 
less without  amend  honorable  from  the  party  himself, 
and  gave  him  full  information,  but  he  did  not  respond 
nor  so  far  as  I  know  publish  any  explanation  of  the  article 
in  his  paper. 

March  1st,  1907,  found  me  on  the  road  going  east- 
ward from  Indianapolis.  I  had  made  up  my  mind  that 
Washington  City  should  be  the  objective  point,  and  that 
Congress  would  be  a  better  field  to  work  in  than  out  on 
the  hopelessly  wide  stretch  of  the  Trail  where  one  man's 
span  of  life  would  certainly  run  before  the  work  could  be 
accomplished. 

But,  before  reaching  Congress,  it  was  well  to  spend 
a  season  or  campaign  of  education  or  manage  somehow 
to  get  the  work  before  the  general  public  so  that  the 
Congress  might  know  about  it,  or  at  least  that  many 
members  might  have  heard  about  it.  So  a  route  was  laid 
out  to  occupy  the  time  until  the  first  of  December,  just 
before  Congress  would  again  assemble  and  be  with  them 
"in  the  beginning."  The  route  lay  from  Indianapolis, 
through  Hamilton,  Ohio,  Dayton,  Columbus,  Buffalo,  then 
Syracuse,  Albany,  New  York  City,  Trenton,  N.  J.,  Phil- 


*  William   Allen   White. 


362        VENTURES   AND   ADVENTURES    OP   EZRA   MEEKER 

adelphia,  Pa.,  Baltimore,  Md.,  thence  to  Washington, 
visiting  intermediate  points  along  the  route  outlined.  This 
would  seem  to  be  quite  a  formidable  undertaking  with 
one  yoke  of  oxen  and  a  big  "prairie  schooner"  wagon 
that  weighed  1,400  pounds,  a  wooden  axle,  that  would 
speak  at  times  if  not  watched  closely  with  tar  bucket  in 
hand;  and  a  load  of  a  thousand  pounds  or  more  of  camp 
equipage,  etc.  And  so  it  was,  but  the  reader  may  recall 
the  fable  of  the  "tortoise  and  the  hare"  and  find  the 
lesson  of  persistance  that  gave  the  race,  not  to  the  swift- 
est afoot.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  on  the  29th  of  November, 
1907,  twenty-two  months  to  a  day  after  leaving  home  at 
Puyallup,  I  drew  up  in  front  of  the  White  House  in 
Washington  City,  was  kindly  received  by  President 
Roosevelt,  and  encouraged  to  believe  my  labor  had  not 
been  lost. 

The  general  reader  may  not  be  interested  in  the  de- 
tails of  my  varied  experiences  in  the  numerous  towns  and 
cities  through  which  I  passed,  nevertheless  there  were 
incidents  in  some  of  the  cities  well  worth  recording. 

As  noted  before,  the  press,  from  the  beginning, 
seemed  to  understand  the  object,  and  enter  into  the  spirit 
of  the  work.  It  remained  for  one  paper  during  the  whole 
trip  (Hamilton,  Ohio)  to  solicit  pay  for  a  notice.  My 
look  of  astonishment  or  something  else  it  seems  wrought 
a  change,  and  the  notice  appeared,  and  I  am  able  to  record 
that  not  one  cent  was  paid  to  the  press  during  the  whole 
trip,  and  I  think  fully  a  thousand  articles  have  been 
published  outlining  and  commending  the  work.  Had  it 
not  been  for  the  press,  no  such  progress  as  has  been 
made  could  have  been  accomplished,  and  if  the  appro- 
priation be  made  by  Congress  to  mark  the  Trail,  the  press 


INDIANAPOLIS   TO  WASHINGTON  363 

did  it,  not,  however,  forgetting  the  patient  oxen  who 
did  their  part  so  well. 

An  interesting  incident,  to  me  at  least,  occurred  in 
passing  through  the  little  town  of  Hunsville,  ten  miles 
east  of  Hamilton,  Ohio,  where  I  was  born,  and  had  not 
seen  for  more  than  seventy  years.  A  snap  shot  at  tlie  old 
house  where  I  was  born  did  me  no  good,  for  at  Dayton 
some  vandal  stole  my  kodak,  film  and  all,  containing  the 
precious  impression. 

Dayton  treated  me  nicely,  bought  a  goodly  number 
of  my  books  and  sent  me  on  my  way  rejoicing  with  no 
further  feeling  of  solicitude  toward  financing  the  ex- 
pedition. I  had  had  particularly  bad  luck  in  the  loss  of 
my  fine  ox ;  then  when  the  cows  were  bought  and  one 
of  them  wouldn't  go  at  all,  and  I  was  compelled  to  ship 
the  outfit  to  Omaha,  more  than  a  hundred  miles ;  and  was 
finally  forced  to  buy  the  unbroken  steer  Dandy,  out  of 
the  stock  yards  at  Omaha,  and  what  was  more,  pay  out 
all  the  money  I  could  rake  and  scrape,  save  seven  dollars, 
small  wonder  I  should  leave  Dayton  with  a  feeling  of  re- 
lief brought  about  by  the  presence  in  my  pocket  of  some 
money  not  drawn  from  home.  I  had  had  other  exper- 
iences of  discouragement  as  well;  when  I  first  put  the 
"Ox  Team"  in  print,  it  was  almost  "with  fear  and 
trembling" — would  the  public  buy  it?  I  could  not  know 
without  trying  and  so  a  thousand  copies  only  were 
printed,  which  of  course  brought  them  up  to  a  high  price 
per  copy.  But  these  sold,  and  two  thousand  more  copies 
printed  and  sold,  and  was  about  even  on  the  expense, 
when  lo  and  behold,  my  plates  and  cuts  were  burned  and 
a  new  beginning  had  to  be  made. 

Mayor   Badger   of   Columbus   wrote    giving   me   the 


364        VENTURES   AND   ADVENTURES   OF   EZRA    MEEKER 

"Freedom  of  the  City,"  and  Mayor  Tom  Johnson  wrote 
to  his  chief  of  police,  to  "Treat  Mr.  Meeker  as  the  gnest 
of  the  city,"  which  he  did. 

At  Buffalo,  N.  Y.,  though,  the  mayor  would  have 
none  of  it,  unless  I  would  pay  one  hundred  dollars  license 
fee,  which,  of  course,  I  would  not.  Fortunately,  though, 
a  camping  ground  was  found  in  the  very  heart  of  the  city, 
and  I  received  a  hearty  welcome  from  the  citizens,  and  a 
good  hearing  as  well.  A  pleasant  episode  occurred  here 
to  while  away  the  time  as  well  as  to  create  a  good  feel- 
ing. The  upper  400  of  Buffalo  were  preparing  to  give  a 
benefit  to  one  of  the  hospitals  in  the  shape  of  a  circus. 
Elaborate  preparations  had  been  made  and  a  part  of  the 
program  was  an  attack  by  Indians  on  an  emigrant  train, 
the  Indians  being  the  well  mounted  young  representatives 
of  the  city's  elite.  At  this  juncture  I  arrived  in  the  city, 
and  was  besieged  to  go  and  represent  the  emigrant  train, 
for  which  they  would  pay  me,  but  I  said  "No,  not  for 
pay,  but  I  will  go,"  and  so  there  was  quite  a  realistic 
show  in  the  "ring"  that  afternoon  and  evening,  and  the 
hospital  received  over  a  thousand  dollar  benefit. 

Near  Oneida  some  one  said  I  had  better  take  to  the 
tow-path  on  the  canal  and  save  distance,  besides  avoid  go- 
ing over  the  hill,  adding  that  while  it  was  against  the  law, 
everybody  did  it  and  no  one  would  object.  So,  when  we 
came  to  the  forks  of  the  road,  I  followed  the  best  beaten 
track  and  soon  found  ourselves  traveling  along  on  the 
level,  hard  but  narrow  way,  the  tow-path.  All  went 
well  and  just  at  evening  on  an  elevated  bridge  across 
the  canal,  three  mules  were  crossing,  and  a  canal-boat 
was  seen  on  the  opposite  side,  evidently  preparing  to 
"camp"  for  the  night.     With  the  kodak  we  were  able 


INDIANAPOLIS    TO   WASHINGTON  365 

to  catch  the  last  mule's  ears  as  he  was  backed  into  the 
boat  for  the  night,  but  not  so  fortunate  the  next  day 
when  a  boat  with  three  men,  two  women  and  three  long" 
eared  mules  were  squarely  met,  the  latter  on  the  tow- 
path.  The  mules  took  fright,  got  into  a  regular  mix-up, 
broke  the  harness  and  went  up  the  tow-path  at  a  2 :40 
gait,  and  were  with  difficulty  brought  under  control. 

I  had  walked  into  Oneida  the  night  before,  and  so 
did  not  see  the  sight  or  hear  the  war  of  words  that  fol- 
lowed. The  men  ordered  W.  to  ' '  take  that  outfit  off  the 
tow-path,"  his  answer  was  that  he  could  not  do  it  with- 
out up-setting  the  wagon.    The  men  said  if  he  would  not, 

they  would  d n  quick  and  started  toward  the  wagon 

evidently  intent  to  execute  their  threat,  meanwhile  swear- 
ing at  the  top  of  their  voices  and  the  women  swearing  in 
chorus,  one  of  them  fairly  shrieking.  My  old  and  trusted 
muzzle-loading  rifle  that  we  had  carried  across  the  Plains 
more  than  fifty-five  years  before  lay  handy  by,  and  so 
when  the  men  started  toward  him,  W.  picked  up  the 
rifle  to  show  fight,  and  called  on  the  dog  Jim  to  take  hold 
of  the  men.  As  he  raised  the  gun  to  use  as  a  elub,  one  of 
the  boatmen  threw  up  his  hands,  bawling  at  the  top  of 
his  voice,  "Don't  shoot,  don't  shoot,"  forgot  to  mix  in 
oaths,  and  slunk  out  of  sight  behind  the  wagon -,  the  others 
also  drew  back,  Jim  showed  his  teeth  and  a  truce  followed 
when  one  of  the  women  became  hysterical  and  the  other 
called  loudly  for  help.  With  but  little  inconvenience  the 
mules  were  taken  off  the  path  and  the  team  drove  on, 
whereupon  a  volley  of  oaths  were  hurled  at  the  object 
of  all  the  trouble  in  which  the  women  joined  at  the  top 
of  their  voices  continuing  as  long  as  they  could  be  heard, 
one  of  them  shrieking — drunk,  W.  thinks. 


3li6        VENTURES   AND   ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA   MEEKER 

The  fun  of  it  was,  the  gun  that  had  spread  such  con- 
sternation hadn't  been  loaded  for  more  than  twenty-five 
years,  but  the  sight  of  it  was  enough  for  the  three  stal- 
wart braves  of  the  "raging  canal." 

I  vowed  then  and  there  that  we  would  travel  no  more 
on  the  tow-path  of  the  canal. 

When  I  came  to  Albany,  the  mayor  wouldn't  talk  to 
me  after  once  taking  a  look  at  my  long  hair.  He  was  an 
old  man,  and  as  I  was  afterwards  told,  a  "broken-down 
politician"  (whatever  that  may  mean).  At  any  rate  he 
treated  me  quite  rudely  I  thought,  though  I  presume,  in 
his  opinion,  it  was  the  best  way  to  get  rid  of  a  nuisance, 
and  so  I  passed  on  through  the  city. 

But  it  took  New  York  City  to  cap  the  climax — to 
bring  me  all  sorts  of  experiences,  sometimes  with  the 
police,  sometimes  with  the  gaping  crowds,  and  sometimes 
at  the  city  hall. 

Mayor  McLellan  was  not  in  the  city  when  I  arrived, 
but  the  acting  mayor  said,  that  while  he  could  not  grant 
a  permit,  to  come  on  it — he  would  have  the  police  com- 
missioner instruct  his  men  not  to  molest  me.  Either  the 
instructions  were  not  general  enough  or  else  the  men 
paid  no  attention  for  when  I  got  down  as  far  as  161st 
Street  on  Amsterdam  Avenue,  a  policeman  interfered 
and  ordered  my  driver  to  take  the  team  to  the  police 
station,  which  he  very  properly  refused  to  do.  It  was 
after  dark  and  I  had  just  gone  around  the  corner  to 
engage  quarters  for  the  night  when  this  occurred;  return- 
ing, I  saw  the  young  policeman  attempt  to  move  the 
team,  but  as  he  didn't  know  how,  they  wouldn't  budge  a 
peg,  whereupon  he  arrested  my  driver,  and  took  him 
away.    Just  then  another  policeman  tried  to  coax  me  to 


INDIANAPOLIS   TO  WASHINGTON  367 

drive  the  team  down  to  the  police  station;  I  said,  "No,  sir, 
I  will  not."  He  said  there  were  good  stables  down  there, 
whereupon  I  told  him  I  had  already  engaged  a  stable, 
and  would  drive  to  it  unless  prevented  by  force.  The 
crowd  had  become  large  and  began  jeering  the  policeman. 
The  situation  was  that  he  couldn't  drive  the  team  to  the 
station,  and  I  wouldn't  and  so  there  we  were.  To  arrest 
me  would  make  matters  worse  by  leaving  the  team  on 
the  street  without  any  one  to  care  for  it,  and  so  finally 
the  fellow  got  out  of  the  way,  and  I  drove  the  team  to 
the  stable,  he,  as  well  as  a  large  crowd  following.  As 
soon  as  I  was  in  the  stable  he  told  me  to  come  along  with 
him  to  the  police  station ;  I  told  him  I  would  go  when  I 
got  the  team  attended  to,  but  not  before  unless  he  wished 
to  carry  me.  The  up-shot  of  the  matter  was  that  by  this 
time  the  captain  of  the  precinct  arrived  and  called  his 
man  off,  and  ordered  my  driver  released.  He  had  had 
some  word  from  the  city  hall  but  had  not  notified  his  men. 
It  transpired  there  was  an  ordinance  against  allowing  cat- 
tle to  be  driven  on  the  streets  of  New  York.  Of  course,  this 
was  intended  to  apply  to  loose  cattle,  but  the  police 
interpreted  it  to  mean  any  cattle,  and  had  the  clubs  to 
enforce  their  interpretation.  I  was  in  the  city,  and 
couldn't  get  out  without  subjecting  myself  to  arrest  ac- 
cording to  their  version  of  the  laws,  and  in  fact  I  didn't 
want  to  get  out.  I  wanted  to  drive  down  Broadway 
from  one  end  to  the  other,  which  I  did,  a  month  later,  as 
will  presently  be  related. 

All  hands  said  nothing  short  of  an  ordinance  by  the 
Board  of  Aldermen  would  clear  the  way;  so  I  tackled  the 
Aldermen.  The  New  York  Tribune  sent  a  man  over  to 
the  city  hall  to  intercede  for  me;  the  New  York  Herald 


368        VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

did  the  same  thing,  and  so  it  came  about,  the  Aldermen 
passed  an  ordinance  granting  me  the  right  of  way  for 
thirty  days,  and  also  endorsed  my  work.  I  thought  my 
trouble  was  over  when  that  passed.  Not  so,  the  mayor 
was  absent,  and  the  acting  mayor  could  not  sign  an  ordi- 
nance until  after  ten  days  had  elapsed.  Then  the  city 
attorney  came  in  and  said  the  Aldermen  had  exceeded 
their  authority  as  they  could  not  legally  grant  a  special 
privilege.  Then  the  acting  mayor  said  he  would  not 
sign  the  ordinance,  but  if  I  would  wait  until  the  next 
meeting  of  the  Aldermen,  if  they  did  not  rescind  the  ordi- 
nance, it  would  be  certified  as  he  would  not  veto  it,  and 
that  as  no  one  was  likely  to  test  the  legality  he  thought  I 
would  be  safe  in  acting  as  though  it  was  legal,  and  so, 
just  thirty  days  from  the  time  I  had  the  bother  with  the 
police,  and  had  incurred  $250.00  expense,  I  drove  down 
Broadway  from  161st  Street  to  the  Battery,  without  a 
slip  or  getting  into  any  serious  scrape  of  any  kind  except 
with  one  automobilist  who  became  angered,  but  after- 
wards became  ''as  good  as  pie,"  as  the  old  saying  goes. 
The  rain  fell  in  torrents  as  we  neared  the  Battery.  1  had 
engaged  quarters  for  the  cattle  near  by,  but  the  stable- 
men went  back  on  me,  and  wouldn't  let  me  in,  and  so 
drove  up  Water  Street  a  long  way  before  finding  a  place 
and  then  was  compelled  to  pay  $4.00  for  stable  room  and 
hay  for  the  cattle  over  night. 

Thirty  days  satisfied  me  with  New  York.  The  fact 
was  the  crowds  were  so  great  that  congestion  of  traffic 
always  followed  my  presence,  and  I  would  be  compelled 
to  move.  I  went  one  day  to  the  City  Hall  Park  to  get  the 
(jreely  statue   photographed   with   my   team,   and   could 


INDIANAPOLIS   TO  WASHINGTON  369 

not  get  away  without  the  help  of  the  police,  and  even 
then  with  great  difficulty. 

A  trip  across  Brooklyn  bridge  to  Brooklyn  was  made, 
but  I  found  the  congestion  there  almost  as  great  as  in  the 
city  proper.  The  month  I  was  on  the  streets  of  New 
York  was  a  month  of  anxiety,  and  I  was  glad  enough  to 
get  out  of  the  city  on  the  17th  of  October,  just  thirty  days 
after  the  drive  down  Broadway,  and  sixty  days  after  the 
hold-up  on  161st  Street,  and  the  very  day  the  big  run 
on  the  Knickerbocker  Bank  began. 

I  came  near  meeting  a  heavy  loss  two  days  before 
leaving  the  city.  Somehow  I  got  sandwiched  in  on  the 
East  Side  above  the  Brooklyn  bridge  in  the  congested 
district  of  the  foreign  quarters  and  finally  at  night-fall 
drove  into  a  stable,  put  the  oxen  in  the  stalls  and,  as 
usual,  the  dog  Jim  in  the  wagon.  The  next  morning  Jim 
was  gone.  The  stablemen  said  he  had  left  the  wagon  a 
few  moments  after  I  had  and  had  been  stolen.  The 
police  accused  the  stablemen  of  being  a  party  to  the  theft, 
in  which  I  think  they  were  right.  Anyway,  the  day  wore 
off  and  no  tidings.  Money  could  not  buy  that  dog.  He 
was  an  integral  part  of  the  expedition;  always  on  the 
alert ;  always  watchful  of  the  wagon  during  my  absence 
and  always  willing  to  mind  what  I  bid  him  to  do.  He 
had  had  more  adventures  than  any  other  member  of  the 
work;  first  he  had  been  tossed  over  a  high  brush  by  the 
ox  Dave ;  then  shortly  after  pitched  headlong  over  a 
barbed  wire  fence  by  an  irate  cow;  then  came  the  fight 
with  a  wolf;  following  this  came  a  narrow  escape  from 
the  rattle  snake  in  the  road ;  after  this  a  trolley  car  run 
over  him  rolling  him  over  and  over  again  until  he  came 
out   as   dizzy   as   a   drunken   man — I  thought  he   was   a 


370        VENTURES   AND   ADVENTURES    OF   EZRA   MEEKER 

"goner"  that  time  sure,  but  he  soon  straightened  up,  and 
finally  in  the  streets  of  Kansas  City  was  run  over  by  a 
heavy  truck  while  righting  another  dog.  The  other  clog 
was  killed  outright,  while  Jim  came  near  having  his 
neck  broken,  lost  one  of  his  best  fighting  teeth  and 
had  several  others  broken.  I  sent  him  to  a  veterinary 
surgeon  and  curiously  enough  he  made  no  protest  while 
having  the  broken  teeth  repaired  and  extracted.  He 
could  eat  nothing  but  soup  and  milk  for  several  days, 
and  that  poured  down  him  as  he  could  neither  lap  nor 
swallow  liquids.  It  came  very  near  being  "all  day"  with 
Jim,  but  he  is  here  with  me  all  right  (see  appendix) 
and  seemingly  good  for  a  new  adventure. 

No  other  method  could  disclose  where  to  find  him 
than  to  offer  a  reward,  which  I  did  and  feel  sure  I  paid 
the  twenty  dollars  to  one  of  the  fellow-parties  to  the 
theft  who  was  brazen  faced  enough  to  demand  pay  for 
keeping  him.  Then  was  when  I  got  up  and  talked  pointed- 
ly, and  was  glad  enough  to  get  out  of  that  part  of  the 
city. 

Between  Newark  and  Elizabeth  City,  New  Jersey, 
at  a  point  known  as  "Lyons  Farm,"  the  old  "Meeker 
Homestead"  stands,  built  in  the  year  1767.  Here  the 
"Meeker  Tribe,"  as  we  called  ourselves,  came  out  to 
greet  me  near  forty  strong,  as  shown  by  the  illus- 
tration in  the  appendix.  Except  in  Philadelphia,  I  did  not 
receive  much  recognition  between  Elizabeth  City  and 
Washington.  "Wilmington  would  have  none  of  it,  except 
for  pay  and  so  I  passed  on,  but  at  Philadelphia  I  was  bid 
to  go  on  Broad  Street  under  the  shadow  of  the  great  city 
hall  where  great  crowds  came  and  took  a  lot  of  my  liter- 
ature away  during  the  four  days  I  tarried ;  in  Baltimore  I 


INDIANAPOLIS   TO  WASHINGTON  371 

got  a  "cold  shoulder"  and  passed  through  the  city  with- 
out halting  long.  In  parts  of  Maryland  I  found  many 
lank  oxen  with  long  horns  and  light  quarters,  the  drivers 
not  being  much  interested  in  the  outfit  except  to  re- 
mark, "Them's  mighty  fine  cattle,  stranger,  where  do 
you  come  from"  and  like  passing  remarks. 

But  when  I  reached  Washington,  the  atmosphere,  so 
to  speak,  changed — a  little  bother  with  the  police  a  few 
days  but  soon  brushed  aside.  I  had  been  just  twenty- 
two  months  to  a  day  in  reaching  Washington  from  the 
time  I  made  my  first  day's  drive  from  my  home  at  Puyal- 
lup,  January  29th,  1906.  It  took  President  Roosevelt  to 
extend  a  royal  welcome. 

"Well,  well,  well,  WELL,"  was  the  exclamation  that 
fell  from  his  lips  as  he  came  near  enough  the  outfit  to 
examine  it  critically,  which  he  did.  (See  appendix.) 
Senator  Piles  and  Representative  Cushman  of  the  Wash- 
ington State  Congressional  delegation  had  introduced  me 
to  the  President  in  the  cabinet  room.  Mr.  Roosevelt 
showed  a  lively  interest  in  the  work  from  the  start.  (See 
illustrations.)  He  did  not  need  to  be  told  that  the  Trail 
was  a  battlefield,  or  that  the  Oregon  Pioneers  who  moved 
out  and  occupied  the  Oregon  country  while  yet  in  dispute 
between  Great  Britain  and  the  United  States  were  heroes 
who  fought  a  strenuous  battle  as  "winners  of  the  farther 
west,"  for  he  fairly  snatched  the  words  from  my  lips  and 
went  even  farther  than  I  had  even  dreamed  of,  let  alone 
having  hoped  for,  in  invoking  government  aid  to  carry 
on  the  work. 

Addressing  Senator  Piles  the  President  said  with 
emphasis,  "I  am  in  favor  of  this  work  to  mark  this  Trail 
and  if  you  will  bring  before  Congress  a  measure  to  ac- 


372         VENTURES   AND   ADVENTURES    OF   EZRA   MEEKER 

complish  it,  I  am  with  you,  and  will  give  it  my  support  to 
do  it  thoroughly." 

Mr.  Roosevelt  thought  the  suggestion  of  a  memorial 
highway  should  first  come  from  the  states  through  which 
the  Trail  runs ;  anyway  it  would  be  possible  to  get  Con- 
gressional aid  to  mark  the  Trail,  and  that  in  any  event, 
ought  to  be  speedily  done. 

Apparently,  on  a  sudden  recollecting  other  engage- 
ments pressing,  the  President  asked,  "Where  is  your 
team?  I  want  to  see  it."  Upon  being  told  that  it  was 
near  by,  without  ceremony,  and  without  his  hat  he  was 
soon  alongside,  asking  questions  faster  than  they  could 
be  answered,  not  idle  questions,  but  such  as  showed  his 
intense  desire  to  get  real  information — bottom  facts — as 
the  saying  goes. 


THE   RETURN   TRIP  373 

CHAPTER  XL VII. 

I  left  Washington  on  the  8th  of  January,  1908, 
and  shipped  the  outfit  over  the  Allegheny  Mountains  to 
McKeesport,  Pennsylvania,  having  been  in  Washington, 
as  the  reader  will  note,  thirty-nine  days.  From  McKees- 
port I  drove  to  Pittsburg  and  there  put  the  team  into  Win- 
ter quarters  to  remain  until  the  5th  of  March ;  thence 
shipped  by  boat  on  the  Ohio  River  to  Cincinnati,  Ohio, 
stopping  in  that  city  but  one  day,  and  from  there  ship- 
ping by  rail  to  St.  Louis,  Missouri.  At  Pittsburg  and 
adjacent  cities  I  was  received  cordially  and  encouraged 
greatly  to  believe  the  movement  for  a  national  highway 
had  taken  a  deep  hold  in  the  minds  of  the  people.  The 
Pittsburg  automobile  club  issued  a  circular  letter  to  all 
the  automobile  clubs  of  Pennsylvania,  and  likewise  to 
the  congressional  delegation  of  Pennsylvania,  urging  them 
to  favor  not  only  the  bill  then  pending  in  Congress,  ap- 
propriating $50,000  for  marking  the  Oregon  Trail,  but 
also  a  measure  looking  to  the  joint  action  of  the  national 
government  and  the  states,  to  build  a  national  highway 
over  the  Oregon  Trail  as  a  memorial  road.  I  was  virtually 
given  the  freedom  of  the  city  of  Pittsburg,  and  sold,  my 
literature  without  hindrance ;  but  not  so  when  I  came  to 
Cincinnati.  The  Mayor  treated  me  with  scant  courtesy, 
but  the  automobile  clubs  of  Cincinnati  took  action  at 
once  similar  to  that  of  the  Pittsburg  club.  Again  when  I 
arrived  in  St.  Louis,  I  received  at  the  City  Hall  the  same 
frigid  reception  that  had  been  given  me  at  Cincinnati, 
although  strenuous  efforts  were  made  by  prominent  citi- 
zens to  bring  out  a  different  result.  However,  the  Mayor 
was  obdurate  and  so  after  tarrying  for  a  few  days,  I  drove 


374        VENTURES   AND   ADVENTURES   OF   EZRA   MEEKER 

out  of  the  city,  greatly  disappointed  at  the  results,  but 
not  until  after  the  automobile  club  and  the  Daughters  of 
the  American  Revolution  had  taken  formal  action  indors- 
ing the  work.  My  greater  disappointment  was  that  here 
I  had  anticipated  a  warm  reception.  St.  Louis,  properly 
speaking,  had  been  the  head  center  of  the  movement  that 
finally  established  the  Oregon  Trail.  Here  was  where 
Weythe,  Bonneyville,  Whitman  and  others  of  the  earlier 
movements  out  on  the  trail  had  outfitted;  but  there  is 
now  a  commercial  generation,  many  of  whom  that  care  but 
little  about  the  subject.  Nevertheless  I  found  a  goodly 
number  of  zealous  advocates  of  the  cause  of  marking  the 
trail. 

The  drive  from  St.  Louis  to  Jefferson  City,  the  Cap- 
ital of  the  State  of  Missouri,  was  tedious  and  without 
results  other  than  reaching  the  point  where  actual  driving 
began  in  early  days.     (See  illustration  in  appendix.) 

Governor  Folk  came  out  on  the  State  House  steps 
to  have  his  photograph  taken  and  otherwise  signified  his 
approval  of  the  work,  and  I  was  accorded  a  cordial  hear- 
ing by  the  citizens  of  that  city.  On  the  fourth  of  April 
I  arrived  at  Independence,  Missouri,  which  is  generally 
understood  to  be  the  eastern  terminus  of  the  Trail. 

I  found,  however,  that  many  of  the  pioneers  shipped 
farther  up  the  Missouri,  some  driving  from  Atchison,  some 
from  Leavenworth,  others  from  St.  Joseph  and  at  a  little 
later  period,  multitudes  from  Karnsville  (now  Council 
Bluffs),  where  Whitman  and  Parker  made  their  final 
break  from  civilization  and  boldly  turned  their  faces 
westerly  for  the  unknown  land  of  Oregon. 

A  peculiar  condition  of  affairs  existed  at  Independ- 
ence.    The  near-by  giant  city  of  Kansas  City  had  long 


THE   RETURN   TRIP  375 

ago  overshadowed  the  embryo  commercial  mart  of  the 
early  thirties  and  had  taken  even  that  early  trade  from 
Independence.  However,  the  citizens  of  Independence 
manifested  an  interest  in  the  work  and  took  measures  to 
raise  a  fund  for  a  $5,000  monument.  At  a  meeting  of 
the  Commercial  Club  it  was  resolved  to  raise  the  funds, 
but  found  to  be  "up-hill  work."  Whether  they  will  suc- 
ceed is  problematical.  A  novel  scheme  had  been  adopted 
to  raise  funds.  A  local  author  proposed  to  write  a  drama, 
:'The  Oregon  Trail,"  and  put  it  on  the  stage  at  Independ- 
ence and  Kansas  City,  for  the  benefit  of  the  Monument 
fund.  If  he  can  succeed  in  carrying  out  successfully  the 
plot  as  outlined,  he  ought  to  write  a  play  that  would  be  a 
monument  to  the  thought  as  well  as  to  provide  funds  for 
a  monument  to  the  Trail,  for  certainly  here  is  a  theme 
that  would  not  only  fire  the  imagination  of  an  audience 
but  likewise  enlist  their  sympathies.  I  am  so  impressed 
with  the  importance  of  this  work  that  I  am  tempted  to 
outline  the  theme  in  the  hope  if  this  attempt  does  not 
succeed,  that  others  may  be  prompted  to  undertake  the 
work. 

First,  the  visit  of  the  four  Flat  Head  Indians  in 
search  of  the  "white  man's  book  of  heaven,"  entertained 
in  St.  Louis  by  Gen.  George  Roger  Clark,  of  Lewis  and 
Clark  fame,  until  two  of  them  died;  then  the  death  of  a 
third  on  the  way  home;  the  historic  speech  of  one,  telling 
of  their  disappointment,  and  final  return  home  of  the 
single  survivor;  then  follows  the  two-thousand-mile  bridal 
tour  of  Whitman  and  Spaulding,  and  this  in  turn  by  the 
historic  movement  of  the  early  home  builders  to  the  Ore- 
gon country  with  its  grand  results ;  the  fading  memory 
of  a  forgetful  generation  until  the  recollections   of  the 


376        VENTURES   AND   ADVENTURES    OF   EZRA   MEEKER 

grand  highway  is  recovered  in  a  blaze  of  glory,  to  be 
handed  down  to  succeeding  generations,  by  the  homage 
of  a  nation. 

At  Kansas  City,  Mo.,  the  thoughts  of  the  people  had 
been  turned  to  the  Santa  Fe  Trail  by  the  active  campaign 
in  the  border  state  of  Kansas  in  erecting  markers  on  that 
trail.  To  my  utter  surprise  it  seemed  that  the  Oregon 
Trail  had  almost  been  forgotten ;  the  sentiment  and 
thought  had  all  been  centered  on  the  Santa  Fe  Trail.  I 
tarried  with  them  exactly  one  month,  spoke  to  numerous 
organized  bodies,  and  came  away  with  the  feeling  the 
seed  had  been  planted  that  would  revive  the  memory  of 
the  Oregon  Trail  and  finally  result  in  a  monument  in  the 
greater  city.  In  the  lesser  Kansas  City,  Kansas,  I  visited 
all  the  public  schools,  spoke  to  the  eleven  thousand  school 
children  of  the  city' and  came  away  with  the  satisfaction 
of  having  secured  contributions  from  over  3,000  children 
to  a  fund  for  erecting  a  monument  in  that  city. 

To  further  interest  the  children  of  the  state  of  Kan- 
sas, I  placed  $25.00  in  the  hands  of  their  State  Superin- 
tendent of  Schools,  to  be  offered  as  a  prize  for  the  best 
essay  on  the  Oregon  Trail.  This  contest  has  been  deter- 
mined during  the  calendar  year  of  1908  and  the  award 
made. 

All  existing  maps  in  the  State  of  Kansas  ignore  the 
Oregon  Trail.  The  "Santa  Fe  Trail"  is  shown;  there  is 
a  "Fremont  Trail,"  a  "California  Trail,"  a  "Mormon 
Trail,"  but  not  one  mile  of  an  "Oregon  Trail,"  although 
this  great  historic  ancient  trail  traversed  the  state  for 
fully  two  hundred  miles.  This  incident  shows  how  ex- 
tremely important,  that  early  action  to  mark  the  Oregon 
Trail  should  be  taken  before  it  is  too  late. 


THE    RETURN   TRIP  377 

The  Santa  Fe  and  Oregon  Trails  from  Independence 
and  Kansas  City  are  identical  out  to  the  town  of  Gard- 
ner, Kansas,  forty  miles  or  thereabouts.  Here,  the  Santa 
Pe  Trail  bore  on  to  the  west  and  finally  southwest,  while 
the  Oregon  Trail  bore  steadily  on  to  the  northwest  and 
encountered  the  Platte  Valley  below  Grand  Island  in 
what  is  now  Nebraska.  At  the  "forks  of  the  road,"  the 
historian  Chittenden  says,  "a  simple  signboard  was  seen 
which  carried  the  words  'Road  to  Oregon,'  thus  pointing 
the  way,  for  two  thousand  miles."  No  such  signboard 
ever  before  pointed  the  road  for  so  long  a  distance  and 
probably  another  such  never  will.  I  determined  to  make 
an  effort  to  at  least  recover  the  spot  where  this  historic 
sign  once  stood,  and  if  possible  plant  a  marker  there. 
Kind  friends  in  Kansas  City,  one  of  whom  I  had  not  met 
for  sixty  years,  took  me  in  their  automobile  to  Gardner, 
Kansas,  where,  after  a  search  of  two  hours,  the  two  sur- 
vivors were  found  who  were  able  to  point  out  the  spot 
(see  appendix) — Mr.  V.  R.  Elli  sand  William  J.  Ott, 
whose  residence  in  the  near  vicinity  dated  back  nearly 
fifty  years ;  aged,  respectively,  77  and  82  years.  The 
point  is  at  the  intersection  of  Washington  and  Central 
Street  in  the  town  of  Gardner,  Kansas.  In  this  little 
town  of  a  few  hundred  inhabitants  stands  a  monument 
for  the  Santa  Fe  Trail,  a  credit  to  the  sentimental  feel- 
ings of  the  community,  but,  having  expended  their  en- 
ergies on  that  work,  it  was  impossible  to  get  them  to 
undertake  to  erect  another,  although  I  returned  a  few 
days  later,  spoke  to  a  meeting  of  the  town  council  and 
citizens  and  offered  to  secure  $250.00  elsewhere  if  the 
town  would  undertake  to  raise  a  like  sum. 

This  last  trip  cost  me  over  a  hundred  dollars.     As  I 


378        VENTURES   AND   ADVENTURES   OF   EZRA   MEEKER 

left  the  train  at  Kansas  City  on  my  return,  my  pocket 
was  "picked"  and  all  the  money  I  had,  save  a  few  dol- 
lars, was  gone.  This  is  the  first  time  in  my  life  I  have 
lost  money  in  that  way,  and  I  want  it  to  be  the  last. 

I  planned  to  drive  up  the  Missouri  and  investigate 
the  remaining  five  prongs  of  The  Trail,  Leavenworth, 
Atchison,  St.  Joseph  and  Kanesville,  the  other,  Independ- 
ence and  Westpoint  (now  Kansas  City),  considered  as 
one,  but  first  drove  to  Topeka,  the  capital  city  of  the 
State  of  Kansas,  where  I  arrived  May  11th  (1908).  The 
"Trail"  crosses  the  Kansas  River  under  the  very  shadow 
of  the  State  House — not  three  blocks  away — yet  only  a 
few  knew  of  its  existence.  The  state  had  appropriated 
$1,000  to  mark  the  Santa  Fe  Trail,  and  the  Daughters 
of  the  Revolution  had  conducted  a  campaign  of  supple- 
menting this  fund  and  had  actually  procured  the  erec- 
tion of  96  markers.  While  I  received  a  respectful  hearing 
by  these  ladies,  yet  they  shrank  from  undertaking  new 
work  at  the  present  time.  The  same  conditions  controlled 
at  Leavenworth  and  likewise  at  Atchison,  and  hence,  I 
did  not  tarry  long  at  either  place,  but  at  all  three,  Topeka, 
Leavenworth  and  Atchison,  a  lively  interest  was  mani- 
.  fested,  as  well  as  at  Lawrence,  and  I  am  led  to  feel  the 
drive  was  not  lost,  although  no  monument  was  secured, 
but  certainly  the  people  do  now  know  there  is  an  Oregon 
Trail.  All  the  papers  did  splendid  work  and  have  car- 
ried on  the  work  in  a  way  that  will  leave  a  lasting  im- 
pression. 

On  the  23rd  of  May  the  team  arrived  at  St.  Joseph, 
Missouri.  At  this  point  many  pioneers  had  outfitted  in 
early  days  and  the  sentiment  was  in  hearty  accord  with 
the  work,  yet  plainly  there  would  be  a  hard  "tug"  to  get 


THE   RETURN   TRIP  379 

the  people  together  on  a  plan  to  erect  a  monument. 
"Times"  were  "very  tight"  to  undertake  such  a  work, 
came  the  response  from  so  many  that  no  organized  effort 
was  made.  By  this  time  the  fact  became  known  that  the 
committee  in  Congress  having  charge  of  the  bill  appro- 
priating $50,000.00  to  mark  the  Trail,  had  taken  action 
and  had  made  a  favorable  report,  and  which  is  univer- 
sally held  to  be  almost  equivalent  to  the  passage  of 
the  bill. 

So,  all  things  considered,  the  conclusion  was  reached 
to  suspend  operation,  ship  the  team  home  and  for  the 
time  being,  take  a  rest  from  the  work.  I  had  been  out 
from  home  twenty-eight  months,  lacking  but  five  days, 
hence  it  is  small  wonder  if  I  should  conclude  to  listen  to 
the  inner  longings  to  get  back  to  the  home  and  home  life. 
Put  yourself  in  my  place,  reader,  and  see  what  you  think 
you  would  have  done.  True,  the  Trail  was  not  yet  fully 
nor  properly  marked,  yet  something  had  been  accom- 
plished and  with  this,  the  thought,  a  good  deal  more 
might  be  expected  from  the  seed  planted. 

May  26th  I  shipped  the  outfit  to  Portland,  Oregon, 
where  I  arrived  on  the  6th  day  of  June  (1908),  and  went 
into  camp  on  the  same  grounds  I  had  camped  on  in 
March  (1906)  on  my  outward  trip. 

Words  cannot  express  my  deep  feelings  of  gratitude 
for  the  royal,  cordial  reception  given  me  by  the  citizens 
of  Portland,  from  the  Mayor  down  to  the  humblest  citi- 
zen, and  for  the  joyous  reunion  with  the  2,000  pioneers 
who  had  just  assembled  for  their  annual  meeting. 

The  drive  from  Portland  to  Seattle  is  one  long  to  be 
remembered,  and  while  occupying  a  goodly  number  of 
days,  yet  not  one  moment  of  tedious  time  hung  heavy  on 


380         VENTURES   AND   ADVENTURES   OF   EZRA    MEEKER 

my  shoulders,  and  on  the  18th  day  of  July,  I  drove  into 
the  City  of  Seattle  and  the  long  "trek"  was  ended. 

It  would  be  unbecoming  in  me  to  assume  in  a  vain- 
glorious mood  that  the  manifestation  of  cordiality,  and 
I  may  say  joy  in  the  hearts  of  many  at  my  homecoming, 
was  wholly  due  to  the  -real  merit  of  my  work,  knowing 
as  I  do  that  so  many  have  magnified  the  difficulties  of 
the  trip,  yet  it  would  be  less  than  human  did  I  not  feel, 
and  unjust  did  I  not  express  the  pride,  and  I  hope  is 
pardonable,  and  openly  acknowledge  it.  for  the  kindly 
words  and  generous  actions  of  my  friends  and  neighbors, 
and  to  ail  such  I  extend  my  kindest  and  heartfelt  thanks. 


CHAPTER   XLVIII. 

(The  end.) 

Now  that  the  trip  has  been  made,  and  an  account 
of  stock,  so  to  speak,  taken,  I  have  become  surprised  the 
work  was  undertaken.  Not  that  I  regret  the  act  any 
more  than  I  regret  the  first  act  of  crossing  the  Plains  in 
1852,  which  to  me  now  appears  to  be  as  incomprehensible 
as  the  later  act.  If  one  questions  the  motive  prompting 
and  governing  the  movements  of  the  early  pioneers, 
scarcely  two  of  the  survivors  will  tell  the  same  story,  or 
give  the  same  reason.  This  wonderful  movement  was 
brought  vividly  home  to  my  mind  recently  while  travers- 
ing the  great  fertile  plains  of  the  Middle  West,  where 
most  of  the  emigrants  came  from.  Here  was  a  vast  ex- 
panse of  unoccupied  fertile  land,  beautiful  as  ever  mortal 


SUMMARY  381 

man  looked  upon ;  great  rivers  traversed  this  belt,  to 
carry  the  surplus  crops  to  distant  markets;  smaller 
streams  ramify  all  over  the  region  to  multiply  the  oppor- 
tunities for  choice  locations  to  one's  heart's  content,  and 
yet  these  Oregon  emigrants  passed  all  these  opportunities 
and  boldly  struck  out  on  the  2,000-mile  stretch  of  what 
was  then  known  as  the  Great  American  Desert,  and 
braved  the  dangers  of  Indian  warfare,  of  starvation,  of 
sickness — in  a  word,  of  untold  dangers, — to  reach  the 
almost  totally  unknown  Oregon  Country.  Why  did  they 
do  it?  Can  any  man  tell?  I  have  been  asked  thousands 
of  times  while  on  this  later  trip  what  prompted  me  to 
make  it?  I  can  not  answer  that  question  satisfactorily 
to  myself  and  have  come  to  answering  the  question  by 
asking  another,  or  more  accurately  speaking,  several, 
"Why  do  you  decorate  a  grave?"  or  "Why  do  we  as  a 
people  mark  our  battlefields?"  or  "Why  do  we  erect 
monuments  to  the  heroic  dead  of  war?"  It  is  the  same 
sentiment,  for  instance,  that  prompted  marking  the  Get- 
tysburg battlefield. 

Yes,  as  I  recently  returned  home  over  the  Oregon 
Short  Line  railroad  that  in  many  places  crossed  the  old 
Trail  (with  Dave  and  Dandy  quietly  chewing  their  cud 
in  the  car,  and  myself  supplied  with  all  the  luxuries  of 
a  great  palatial  overland  train,  and  I  began  vividly  to 
realize  the  wide  expanse  of  country  covered,  and  passed 
first  one  and  then  another  of  the  camping  places,  I  am 
led  to  wonder,  if,  after  all,  I  could  have  seen  the  Trail 
stretched  out,  as  like  a  panorama,  as  seen  from  the  car 
window,  would  I  have  undertaken  the  work?  I  some- 
times think  not.  We  all  of  us  at  times  undertake  things 
that    look    bigger    after   completion,    than    in    our    vision 


382         VENTURES   AND   ADVENTURES    OF   EZRA   MEEKER 

ahead  of  us,  or  in  other  words,  go  into  ventures  without 
fully  counting  the  cost.  Perhaps,  to  an  extent  this  was 
the  case  in  this  venture;  the  work  did  look  larger  from 
the  car  window  than  from  the  camp.  Nevertheless,  I  have 
no  regrets  to  express  nor  exultations  to  proclaim.  In  one 
sense  the  expedition  has  been  a  failure,  in  that  as  yet  the 
Trail  is  not  sufficiently  marked  for  all  time  and  for  all 
generations  to  come.  We  have  made  a  beginning,  and  let 
us  hope  the  end  sought  will  in  the  near  future  become 
an  accomplished  fact,  and  not  forget  the  splendid  response 
from  so  many  communities  on  the  way  in  this,  the  begin- 
ning. And  let  the  reader,  too,  remember  he  has  an  inter- 
est in  this  work,  a  duty  to  perform  to  aid  in  building  up 
American  citizenship,  for  "monumenting"  the  Oregon 
Trail  means  more  than  the  mere  preservation  in  memory 
of  that  great  highway :  it  means  the  building  up  of  loyalty, 
patriotism — of  placing  the  American  thought  upon  a 
higher  plane,  as  well  as  of  teaching  history  in  a  form  never 
to  be  forgotten  and  always  in  view  as  an  object  lesson. 

The  financing  of  the  expedition  became  at  once  a 
most  difficult  problem.  A  latent  feeling  existed  favoring 
the  work,  but  how  to  utilize  it — concentrate  it  upon  a 
plan  that  would  succeed,- — confronted  the  friends  of  the 
enterprise.  Elsewhere,  the  reader  will  find  the  reason 
given,  why  the  ox  team  was  chosen  and  the  drive  over  the 
old  Trail  undertaken.  But  there  did  not  exist  a  belief  in 
the  minds  of  many  that  the  "plan  would  work,"  and  so 
it  came  about  that  almost  every  one  refused  to  contribute, 
and  many  tried  to  discourage  the  effort,  sincerely  be- 
lieving that  it  would  result  in  failure. 

I  have  elsewhere  acknowledged  the  liberality  of  H.  C. 
Davis   of   Claquato,    Washington,    sending   his   check   for 


SUMMARY  388 

$50.00  with  which  to  purchase  an  ox.  Irving  Alvord  of 
Kent,  Washington,  contributed  $25.00  for  the  purchase  of 
a  cow.  Ladd  of  Portland  gave  a  check  for  $100.00  at 
the  instance  of  George  H.  Himes,  who  also  secured  a 
like  sum  from  others — $200.00  in  all.  Then  when  I  lost 
the  ox  Twist  and  telegraphed  to  Henry  Hewitt  of  Tacoma 
to  send  me  two  hundred  dollars,  the  response  came  the 
next  day  to  the  bank  at  Gothenburg,  Nebraska,  to  pay 
me  that  amount.  But,  notwithstanding  the  utmost  effort 
and  most  rigid  economy,  there  did  seem  at  times  that 
an  impending  financial  failure  was  just  ahead.  In  the 
midst  of  the  enthusiasm  manifested,  I  felt  the  need  to 
put  on  a  bold  front  and  refuse  contributions  for  financing 
the  expedition,  knowing  full  well  that  the  cry  of  "graft" 
would  be  raised  and  that  contributions  to  local  committees 
for  monuments  would  be  lessened,  if  not  stopped  alto- 
gether. The  outlay  had  reached  the  $1,400.00  mark  when 
I  had  my  first  1,000  copies  of  the  "Ox  Team"  printed. 
Would  the  book  sell,  I  queried?  I  had  written  it  in  camp, 
along  the  roadside ;  in  the  wagon — any  place  and  at  any 
time  I  could  snatch  an  opportunity  or. a  moment  from 
other  pressing  work.  These  were  days  of  anxieties. 
Knowing  full  well  the  imperfections  of  the  work,  small 
wonder  if  I  did,  in  a  figurative  sense,  put  out  the  book 
"with  fear  and  trembling," — an  edition  of  1,000  copies. 
The  response  came  quick,  for  the  book  sold  and  the  ex- 
pedition was  saved  from  failure  for  lack  of  funds.  Two 
thousand  more  were  printed,  and  while  these  were  sell- 
ing, my  cuts,  plates  and  a  part  of  a  third  reprint  were 
all  destroyed  by  fire  in  Chicago,  and  I  had  to  begin  at 
the  bottom.  New  plates  and  new  cuts  were  ordered,  and 
this  time  6,000  copies  were  printed,  and  later  another  re- 


384        VENTURES   AND  ADVENTURES   OF  EZRA  MEEKER 

print  of  10,000  copies  (19,000  in  all),  with  less  than  1,000 
copies  left  unsold  two  months  after  arrival  home.  So 
the  book  saved  the  day.  Nevertheless,  there  were  times — 
until  I  reached  Philadelphia — when  the  question  of  where 
the  next  dollar  of  expense  money  Avould  come  from  be- 
fore an  imperative  demand  came  for  it  bore  heavily  on 
my  mind.  Two  months  tied  up  in  Indianapolis  during 
the  winter  came  near  deciding  the  question  adversely; 
then  later,  being  shut  out  from  selling  at  Buffalo,  Albany 
and  some  other  places  and  finally  the  tie-up  in  New  York, 
related  elsewhere,  nearly  "broke  the  bank."  New  York 
did  not  yield  a  rich  harvest  for  selling  as  I  had  hoped 
for,  as  the  crowds  were  too  great  to  admit  of  my  remain- 
ing long  in  one  place,  but  when  Philadelphia  was  reached 
and  I  was  assigned  a  place  on  Broad  Street  near  the  City 
Hall,  the  crowds  came,  the  sales  ran  up  to  $247.00  in  one 
day  and  $600.00  for  the  four  days,  the  financial  question 
was  settled,  and  there  were  no  more  anxious  moments 
about  where  the  next  dollar  was  to  come  from,  although 
the  aggregate  expenses  of  the  expedition  had  reached  the 
sum  of  nearly  eight  thousand  dollars. 

"All  is  well  that  ends  well,"  as  the  old  saying  goes, 
and  so  I  am  rejoiced  to  be  able  to  report  so  favorable  a 
termination  of  the  financial  part  of  the  expedition. 


This  tree,  a  silent  witness  of  the  confidence  existing  between  the 
Indians  and  pioneers,  grew  on  Mound  Prairie,  Thurston  County, 
Washington. 

The  sturdy  pioneer,  owner  of  the  gun  shown  in  the  illustration, 
when  the  Indian  war  outbreak  came,  agreed  with  his  Indian  neigh- 
bors they  should  remain  friends,  and  as  a  token  of  mutual  confidence 
the  gun  was  placed  in  the  fork  of  the  tree  as  an  emblem  of  peace, 
where  it  has  remained  during  fifty-four  years.  The  pioneer  long 
since  died;  the  Indian  tribe  has  disappeared;  the  cabin  has  fallen 
into  decay,  and  but  for  the  rescue  of  this  relic  the  incident  would 
have  gone  down  into  oblivion  and  this  striking  illustration  of  the 
relations  of  the  two  races   would  have  been  lost. 


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ON    THE    BRIIKIK 


FIRST    BOULDER    MARKED,    FIVE    MILKS    FROM    THE    DALLES, 
OREGON.— See    page    315. 


THE     YOUNG     HUSBAND. 


THE   LITTLE   WIFE. 


BREAKING  DANDY  ON  THE  STREETS  OF  OMAHA. — See  page  359. 


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SUMMIT    OF    THE    SOUTH    PASS,    ROCKY    MOUNTAINS.— See 
page    327. 


WAY    DOWN    IN   OLD    MISSOURI.— See    page    374. 


MY    NEIGHBOR'S    CHILDREN. 


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AN    IMPROMPTU    DEDICATION;    LADD'S    CANYON,    OREGON, 
APRIL    10TH,    1906. — See    page    318. 


EOCKY   MOUNTAIN   SCENERY;   TORTOISE   ROCK. — See   page  326. 


EZRA     MEEKER'S    FIRST    HOP    HOUSE;     PUYALLUP,    WASH. 
See    pages    284    and    286. 


This  famous  Trail,  shown  on  the  map,  the  natural  gateway 
to  the  Pacific,  may  be  said  to  date  back  to  the  discovery  of  the 
South  Pass  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  in  1822  by  Etienne  Provost, 
although  sections  of  it  had  been  traversed  by  hardy  adventurers 
in  the  early  part  of  the  seventeenth  century. 

After  the  buffaloes  came  the  Indians,  followed  in  turn  by 
trappers  and  traders,  and  these  by  the  intrepid  missionaries  who 
pointed  the  way  for  that  mightiest  migration  of  the  world's  his- 
tory, the  home  builders  of  the  Pacific  Northwest,  to  the  Oregon 
country.  History  does  not  record  so  great  a  movement  for  so 
great  a  distance  as  this,  over  a  2,000  miles  stretch  of  an  unknown 
country  from  the  Missouri  River  to  the  Pacific  coast.  The  Mor- 
mons in  1846  and  the  gold  seekers  of  California  in  '49  followed 


the  Oregon  Trail  for  more  than  a  thousand  miles  to  the  big  bend 
of  the  Bear  river  and  contended  for  possession  of  the  single  trail 
then  existing,  with  the  still  passing  throng  to  Oregon,  until  in 
later  years  parallel  tracks  were  worn  deep  for  long  distances 
as  the  multitudes  jostled  each  other  on  their  weary  westward 
journey. 

The  Oregon  Trail  is  without  its  parallel  of  picturesque  scen- 
eries, its  tragedies  and  legends  of  heroism,  that  some  day  will 
lend  a  theme  for  an  imperishable  epic  to  go  down  into  history 
for  all  ages,  as  has  already  been  the  physical  marks  along  the 
way  to  point  the  spots  where  the  multitudes  passed  and  suffered 
and  died. 


EZRA    MEEKER    AS    FRONTIERSMAN. 


DEVIL'S    GATE,     SWEETWATER.— See    page    332. 


AT    TOPEKA;    KANSAS    MUD.— See    page    378. 


CAMP    AT    SKATTLK;    TIIK    <)I.I>    A.\'I>    THK    XKW 


page   305. 


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INDEPENDENCE   ROCK,   WYOMING.— See   page   334. 


MONUMENT    AT    BAKER    CITY,     OREGON;     DEDICATED    APRIL 
19TH,    1906. — See    page    318. 


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